The air is scratched with rain
Drawn in fine slanted line work
Through the glade from sky to
Grass setting down into the dim
Grown dusk toward evening's under
Coat which begins to drip from eaves
Beyond the porch where every move
Is not without effort through the
Outpour of day moved up from the ocean
Melted now about the lawn and gathered
In the little channel rivulets which rush
And build, rush and build some more to
The gutter point of their return to sea.