When our first-born first saw rain
in his short life, after a long drought,
You were wheeling him to town in his pusher,
and the big drops fell like some visitation from the future,
or as earthlight might splatter a Venusian.
What could we say that would reassure him?
It was all very innocent and frightening.
He was far too young for our words, anyway.
There would be later rains, later visitations more truly worrisome, but by then
he would have learned not to cry.
there would be no more startling things from the empty sky,
and it would be us who had just landed from the planet