Through thick rainy weather
A girl sidles, fingers bent on an
Umbrella handle as if caught
In an unhappy circumstance
That might merely by its continuing
Attach her to a blowhard wind.
In the storm eye’s envious corner
Her wet shoes draining on a shadowy
Figure trying to stay dry, but the rain
Gusts steal its dull color; while bruit of
Sunlight calls out a thunderhead whose
Tongue back talks like a rain-soaked raven.
Cleaving inclement air
Over her dampened spirits, no sun
Rivals its downpour look; conceit
Like a divining rod in a shrined yard
Searching for holy water; it
Waylays the girl’s church-going.
Against hymnal and prayer
This malevolent storm sets
Forty-days enough to distract
A religious thought; she is desperate
For a sacrament, a rosary, any
Hail Mary to dissipate this leviathan’s wetting.
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