summer's last call by Kyla Houbolt

rain

falls

gently raw

each single drop's

singular message plummets

from on high 

down

to dirt

or rooftop

or tree branch 

or asphalt.

If I lie out on the ground

with my mouth open

will I learn

what the rain says?

I'm not

about to do that,

it's chilly out and dark

and the rain

is not speaking to me;

it's calling certain worms

to their death journeys

and calling roots

to have one last drink.

I might hear

a kind of song but rain

has its duties

with which it is

ruthlessly concerned

and has no speech

for me.

---

Kyla Houbolt (she, her), born and raised in North Carolina, currently occupies Catawba territory in Gastonia, NC. Her first two chapbooks, Dawn's Fool and Tuned were published in 2020. More about them on her website, https://www.kylahoubolt.com/. Her individually published pieces online can be found on her Linktree: https://linktr.ee/luaz_poet. She is on Twitter @luaz_poet.