In Evening Rain
Even here in town I could be
sitting alone on a mountain
like old Tu Fu, watching
rain strike the deck chairs
and the dense green
foliage of the forest beyond
as it darkens into night.
I’d drink a little wine, think back
on an evening spent talking poetry
and politics with an old friend
I haven’t seen now for years,
and watch that little brown wren
with its tail pointed upward
hop around under the bird feeder
looking for fallen seeds in the falling rain.