Calling for rain

[vaneramos]

the trees are calling for rain—
horse-chestnut, maple and elm
in a row against the hot blast
raising limbs restlessly
shade their faces

displaying unexpected undersides of leaves
pale as the pink palms of brown hands

windows above the street
shut tight against heat
air machines mutter with cars
stirring dust from the gutter

pavement dissolves into distance
horizon shimmers into haze
clouds stick with glare
and sky gets dirty
around edges of the afternoon

drenched drivers
with pasted backs

pale apartment people
stripped down
behind blinded windows—

the trees are calling for rain
palms upturned to feel
a scent of damp in the wind
a rumour of lighting

© Van Waffle, 2003