Waiting For The Rain Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Driving to the east, driving home the sky was
As gray as gray rhinoceroses- I even drove past Alma’s
House,
And Alma’s roses, because she didn’t ring me all today:
When I got home the air-condition didn’t work,
But I think that’s okay-
I am still waiting for the rain, and maybe I have broken my
Promise to her:
Maybe there are fearful satellites coming close to airplanes:
The sky just goes up like the funniest layers of a dream,
While relatives close their eyes and go to rest like
Cicadas praying forever on cypress;
Even if that is just close to what I mean: I am finally in my house
And I can hear the fornications of the world,
But the green waterfall leaping from my window is as quiet as
A blind man kneeling for a blessing,
And Alma is home and at rest with her beautiful family,
While I am breaking my promises and waiting for the rain.