The sky will darken soon. And I think of her stubby arms waving,
the lisped exclamation They’re raining! They’re raining!
and of course she makes more sense than the vague circumvention of high tongues
called eloquence. I don’t know how to say the joy of it:
this blissful frustration of seeing clouds come
ponderously to the center of an Oklahoma noon
too dry to let my cracked lips bless the night-
within-day that great storms are.