The Falling Rain
Drops cut paths through the coal dust
Leaving zebra stripes on
The crackled white paint.
Mama is calling us in.
Bare feet slap hard
Against cinder block steps.
Door slams. I'm alone.
She won't miss me for a while.
Drops bounce off the puddles in the road.
Coon dog howls and rattles his chain.
I peek my head up and see Mama
Catching leaks in her cook pots.
The tin roof plays its music.
Thunder echoes down the valley.
Lightning cuts the dark sky and
I jump before I know it.
Could Papa hear thunder in the mine?
Would he know it's pouring down?
Or would he feel it on his face
Like wet kisses as he steps to the surface?
--Aimee Nance
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