Duck Weather

The world wraps the cabin in wet for days.
Things happen. Enough water will damage
Almost anything sooner or later,
Even the sea. Think of all those glaciers.

The exquisite lenses of perspective
Sat on a log in the rains overnight.
Now everything looks misty, close, and dank.
The mountains withdraw. Birds quiet. Worms float.

Each small, local thing seems to lose its place,
Caught up by waterfalls, churning creeks, mud,
Blocked vortices circling in high meadows
Then rushing down rocks to cold, swollen lakes.

What a beautiful misery this is,
What monotonous, sorrowful solace.
What is it about wet weather that serves
As a kindness only to loneliness?

When it is silent except for the rain
There's peace, but any companionship's hard.
The wet creeps in, dissolves fellow feeling,
Invites mildew into each warm embrace.