rain that has not come

I hear this rain
the drops descend
in darkness, a foreboding
that contradicts the sun.

hear their rapid swirls
feel wetness
sideways streaks
turning up the leaves,
uncertain why it's time's design--
so oft concealed--
the rain that is to come.

tranquil skies appear
as unsuspecting,
or could they know
the rhythm of illusion?

smiles blue, winks bright,
wispy curls become grand columns,
majestic, high formations--
deceptive spires all in white--
yet, from in their fullness
sweep the unrelenting
shields of gray:

I fix my eye aloft,
hold back the sky,
a static, happy fresco,
having heard from long ago
presages
of other raging torrents,
I know what unforgiving sorrow
came... a loss,
streams, unwelcome,
that will tomorrow rush
too soon
to overtake today.