Rain-washed

Night's when I come alive, and rain
shapes me. Out, then! out!
In the courtyard's flood we laugh,
raise our heads to the sky
where the storm echoes,
making joy majestic.

Lightning! We're swimming
in this rain, clothes and souls
roughly washed.
My teeth rattle a rhythm
of thunder-joy, warm water.
Splash, say our feet
bare on the asphalt's heat
as the rain shapes us.
We come alive at night.

Sara Norja

If you have any comments on this poem,  Sara Norja  would be pleased to hear from you.