City rain.

I know you probably make it rain.

Each field and streaked window has to be taught on its own
How to be drenched--
By
 scrabbling
   means--

The downpour comically
Mimicked by some crickets and

Stiff sabers of grass.

I know, I eat from your wet hands--
even dirt. And

When I lay my ear alongside it, the city stands back,
as if expecting to learn
  something.