RAIN 

The rain was raining

So hard and so loud

That I held my phone

Up to my the bedroom window

Of my newly renovated 

Double-paned house

While you held your phone

Up to the living room ceiling 

Of your one-hundred-year-old

Brick and timbered home.

We let these rains

At your house and mine

Talk to each other.

 

We did this, I believe,

Because we believed, without

Knowing we did,

That the rain had more 

To say to itself 

Than we did 

To each other.