I don’t want this to be
another poem
about the rain.
There are many good poems
about the rain.

I want these words to fall on you
like rain,
like monsoon rain.

On you – that dry, cultivated
who never stands out
in the rain.

On you – that desert full of seeds
that longs
for life-giving rain.

Yes, these are only simple words,
not rain.
But simple were the words
that made you run for shelter.

These drops of water
these drops of brilliant
fall faster,
and you are standing still
under the rain.

Under heavy rain.

You know what it
is saying
and you are soaked
to the skin.

Lee Nash lives in France and freelances as an editorial designer for a UK publisher. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in print and online journals in the UK, the US and France including Angle, Orbis, Poetry Salzburg Review, The Interpreter’s House and The Miscreant. You can find a selection of Lee’s poems on her website: leenashpoetry.com.


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