Rain

Rain walks thick lines
down the window pane.
They wander into the garden
and slip out again,
sliding down to the river.

The waters below the dam
churn like white shirts
tumbled up and down
in nature’s laundromat.

The radio calls for rain,
more rain, four inches,
they say,
in the next two days.

The moose have already
migrated to higher,
drier ground.

They stand on the highway,
head to head with cars,
stubborn and steaming
in the never-ending rain.