Rain On Hosta
by Annette Gagliardi

It is raining on the Hosta in my yard
and on the rabbits who hide under
the broad leaves, nibbling their impromptu
umbrella; huddled together in the cold,
sitting perfectly,        soundlessly
shivering        in fear

of being discovered by the cat
who waits under the porch awning
with its silent, surveying eyes
and occasionally twitching
tail that catches and refracts the light
as it arcs back and forth.

And, it is raining, as I sit – in this rocking
chair, gazing out the window; looking
like the rabbit hiding under the Hosta;
waiting for the rain to stop, in order to
escape these tears tracing down my cheeks;
to stop weeping from losing you.



 

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