The Coup of Rain (Draft 12)

The Coup of Rain (Draft 12)

A little bird told me
a tale for Joan —

Wednesday’s rain, so grandiose,
Cannot marry grief’s sodden pairs:
those feathered hopes
that sulk, and pair up
in moments flirtations.

A little bird rapped to me
in chirpy gossip. Now —

In the clearing bower
light is approaching
with rapprochement,
a blessing of the Sun,

and Joan will shelter me
in radiant glows, ’cause

little birds whispered from branches
the sun will marry you in light of day
with avian rhapsodies fancied. This:

Listen all witnesses today
for these new vows:
to the reign of love
on Wed-nest-day

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