Passing through the thin membrane between Spring and Summer,
It is the change of the air,
Heady flower musk turned intoxicating,
So the rain, heavy rain, falls hot and oppressive.
It is the Not-Winter, the thick fecundity of Life,
Darkening the air we breathe,
Damp and threatening rot,
So rains come with the intensity
Of an ancient inquisitor,
Washing away the filth,
And with it, a little beauty,
A small price,
To wipe away the childish sins of innocent Spring.
Discarded Recollections 