When it rains,

The flowers weep.

The precipitation seeps

So deeply into their veins.

Do they know 

That they must sleep sometimes, 

And let the raindrops 

Reach down far enough to get

To their main roots?

I like to sleep, too,

When it rains.

I close my eyes

And count the grains of sand

I’ve seen in the peanut fields,

And think of the green, leafy shoots,

The way wet, careless weed roots smell

When you hoe them out of the dirty earth

After the rain has gone.

Sometimes I cry when it rains.

The sky complains.

The wind blows my hair into my eyes.

I stare at that place

Where I used to think I was alive.

I wander back in time

And feel the unquenchable nameless pains

That reach all the way back to 

My misunderstood innocence.

-jenn