Cresting the hill, it was if the rain moved
From us—-We approached. It fled, leaving
Places of light on the leaves, the sky altered
In quality and kind, the breath of Autumn
So poignant we gasped, the sudden alchemy
Of pressure on air so vast it becomes a form
That transforms as it passes; what we know
Is there was storm and that is now ourselves.
The Truth is the absence of all it is not;
The weather, a system: Declaring:
I am the rain that is deeper than words.