Melancholy and exuberance, refreshment and drowning. Admit you mostly only take notice of the rain when it's an annoyance. And its color - if you even consider it - then must be grey. But rain has many colors. It depends on how you look, and from where. Are you mostly inside? How about from the top of a tree, or a cloud, or the surface of the sea? Open up your magic box and free the butterflies. Don't let the python paralyze you, as he did the chickens. The deer? Maybe she had been barking at us. Our obliviousness the danger she sensed. This is the second of three volumes of poetry drafted during the first two decades of this century. Like the poems in the first volume, these have come to me through dreams, visions, events and observation. But unlike the darker lairs that birthed most of volume one, these poems alight from the sky. I hope you enjoy.
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