The Show Poem by Robert Rorabeck

All this rain and some people are
Talking about me,
Using me for the butt of their jokes,
Smoking;
But it is a very casual thing to see the
Sun when it caresses the arm span
Of airplanes,
When the clouds finally part and the
Play begins:
And I guess I’ve always been humorous
And a drunkard,
Good at making cider and running
Away,
But the mountains kind of always had
A thing for me
When they awakened somehow indigo,
And girls named S- loved
Me too,
Even when I was making a mausoleum of
Their fun.
They asked me to smile as the birds
Took to the sky;
It sounded like the laughter of a great
Audience,
All those wings multiplying going
Up into the weather,
And all the acrobatics of human invention
Touching down softly across
The schoolyard where we finally settled
Down to watch the show.