by Jamie Elliott Keith

Rain pours down, downpour,
pouring rain, rainpour, downrain,
and I, inside, beneath a dormered ceiling,
cloistered from the hammering
pellets, percussive symphony of spatters
singing how sheltered you are.
A slope of roof falls below me
and another cuts the view to the east,
rain falls along the shingles, rainfall pours
over gutters slick with sheets
of liquid pummeling, and from above
a curtain of raindrops drips, shimmering.
On this side, the window is framed
with curtains of sheer white.

Jamie Elliott Keith lives in Knoxville, Tennessee, and works as a community volunteer. Her work has appeared in such journals as Rust + Moth, The James Dickey Review, The Cape Rock, San Pedro River Review, and Third Wednesday. Her first chapbook, Past the Edge of Blue (2017), was published by Iris Press.