I'm from California: A Poem About Rain

The mirror-finish sidewalks swirl like watercolor washes

I crash through silent puddles in my sickly warm galoshes

A fiery glint of orange among a sea of muted gray

A morning salutation on this dark and sunless day

The wrinkled leaves of autumn hold dead hints of summer's flame

The sun should not come out now: it would put them all to shame

The ashen clouds are looming, they are threatening, it seems

They hover with the swirling mists; this lakeside fog, it clings

The cars race by with ruby lights, they glide across the glass

Ten thousand gritty deltas mirror every hurried flash

A blurry, constant rumble comes with freezing, endless mist

My sunny southern home can't know how sorely it is missed