In A Soft And Vibrant Rain Poem by Robert Rorabeck

World of joy fill in my veins, a coloring book when no
One is at home,
The paper airplanes folded on the lucky carpet like dying birds:
Eyed by the serpent that no one thought to see-
And places over the canal not so far away, that housewives will
Never see:
The joy I do not know, and things that will never sell,
Hands that never brush the wardrobes of the forest,
But like boudoirs in the dusk, pricked by antlers of the
Tallest beasts,
Bleeding sap and tears, wondering when it will snow,
As the flowers spring wildly,
Giving their heads to the sunlight, like children pushing their
Lips beneath the venomous buttons,
Searching out a mother’s breast, like a fire hydrant
In a soft and vibrant rain.