It's raining again
the kind of rain that keeps its own counsel
I keep trying to make it to the Book Bird
as if arrival were a promise I could keep
instead I stay home with my dogs
the small republic of the living room holding
one of them trembling at the sky’s unrest
his body a barometer I cannot quiet
so I sit beside him
and learn the weather from within
somewhere, a bookstore door opens
without me
and still
this hour receives me whole