Deep Chrome Turquoise

The rain isn't interested in anyone's plans 

For a picnic

Or working in the yard this afternoon

It has a schedule of it's own it must keep

And so it falls

From a canopy of gray it falls

Pooling on the ground, in the streets and in the gutters

Filling up the ponds, reservoirs and lakes

Quenching the thirst of every single blade of grass

And the weeds that were not 

Invited to the party

Gardens become marshes

Trees rejoice 

The oil stains on the asphalt

Become a thousand damaged LCD monitors

Like Jackson Pollock splatters

of deep chrome turquoise

Decorating the drive