A BLACK NIGHT RAIN

A black night rain
washed on the windshield
remembering the gutters
will have to be fixed
for the Fall
near the chrysanthemums
in our rose garden
as birds rest on a horse blanket
on places of twilight
I'm paring my green apple
on my way to the museum
to view the pre-Raphaelites
abstract expressionists
who are on display
noticing a man thumbing
along the country road
with a strong curving arm
waving for a ride
on his way into Boston
I'm picking him up
near the baseball field,
tells me he is Dr. Paul
who writes poetry plays
in the style of Eliot
wrote his thesis on Dickens
and came to hear me
at one of my seasonal readings
and knew I played sax
told me he wrote an analysis
of my verse in a literary journal
which he taught in his class
tells me confidentially
he loves to sail on the ocean
his wife Lara keeps kosher
because of health reasons
and they raise chickens
on their farm
has a son and daughter
living at the Berklee
school of music in Boston
both studying jazz and voice
and invited me to read
at one of his classes,
Dr.Paul has a great fluency
of language,
as we enjoyed
each other's company
joined me at the museum
as the rain suddenly stopped.