The Sound of Rain
by Theodora Goss

Is there anything as beautiful
as the sound of rain
when you are tucked safe and warm and fed
into a comfortable bed
with roses on the counterpane,
while through the window
comes the cold gray light of autumn
like a promise of purpose after rest —
a world of red leaves and crisp winds,
of puddles and scuttling clouds,
once you have left
this down and flannel nest?

But in the meantime,
raindrops are pattering on the porch
like metronomes
all set to a different tempo,
and you can slip away
for a little while longer, head
lying on your pillow,
into the freshly-laundered country
of dreams.

(The image is Woman Reading in Bed by Gabriel Ferrier.)