Earthworms and Wings

Sun showers stipple the meadow
Where the blue truck lies in wildflowers
And the birds aren't so numerous
As the woods would lead one to think.

But that's only for a little while.
Rain stops. It always does. Rain starts
Again, almost always as well,
Although the ice winds off the poles

Haven't seen rain since before us.
Where were we? An earthworm wriggles,
Unhappily, it seems to me,
In sun, then the shadow of wings.