Rain...

Rain
I can hear you
making small holes
in the silence
rain

If I were deaf
the pores of my skin
would open to you
and shut

And I
should know you
by the lick of you
if I were blind

The pleasant
special smell of you
when the sun cakes
the ground

The steady
drum-roll sound
you make
when the wind drops

But if I
should not hear
smell or feel or see
you

You would still
define me
disperse me
wash over me
rain