Ithaca, N. Y.
When the storm passed,
we listened to rain-leavings,
individual drops in
fields of surprise;
a drop here
in a puddle;
the clear-cracking
drop
against a naked root;
by the window,
the muffled, elm-leaf drop,
reorganizing at the tip,
dropping in another
event to the ground:
we listened and
liveliness broke
out at a thousand quiet
points.
Structure
18 lines · 3 stanzas