We are taught to dread the rain
to fear its bonedeep chill
to mourn cancelled picnics
and cry over spilled parades
there is something in the kiss
of a soft day that touches off in me
a longing to be an older self
something in the sting of
a lashing wind laced with
streamers of rain that calls
me to the wild.  This I think
I fear with an awesome dread
we once reserved for gods--
that if I lift my face to
the rain's caress, I'll be
forever lost to the sun

            -Deb Powers