Skittering like wishes on glass puddle pains
Soft death of blanched earthworm
And now emergent from sunshades
The swallows sound like tin cups
The tinny rustlings of restless swallows
Immigrant variations on a familiar theme.
Just for the record, I'm not actually this nostalgic about rain. If I could afford to live in Arizona, I would do it in five minutes. But I guess when I wrote this, it was appealing to me for some reason beyond myself.