[untitled poem by Kaylene Andrew]
Outside the rain rains
and clothes the mountain with grey and wet.
And silver slivers fracture the pane
through which I
long for the wet mountain
behind the pane
I watch the streams of water on the glass
distant mountain's trees.
but I could reach out and touch that mountain
with my safe dry fingers;
If I but open the window and let in the storm.
But that I know I may not do
For our would fly my naked self
To dance in homage to the storm
On the drenched rain dividing mountain.