The River from the Rain–Eric Paul Shaffer
The river spoke of water in high places, glowing
where rocks gave voice to the flow beside the lightless path.
I could only listen. Stumbling along the bank,
climbing into the coming storm, I saw no light
but clouds dull with a full moon and fierce with lightning.
At the cabin, rain clapped a gusty patter in waves
falling through wind. All night long, I lay beneath a roof
made musical by the scatter of drops. In a darkness
pierced only by my ears, I lay listening, and till I woke,
I didn’t know the river from the rain.