Sarah St Vincent Welch #365 rain

birds call before the rain

flap as if to fly, huddle

we don’t know when it will stop

our road a river

the river a sea

our veranda a boat

breaking off, pushing out

the boat is a tree cracking

in dirty swell and debris

no land to reach

we grab at branches

twigs and leaves in our mouths

wake from our dreams of drowning every night

ask

how did you sleep, did you sleep?