Rain percolates through the window screen. Slow
pool on the sill. Naked morning lingers in 
dampened air. A river slinks down the drywall.
   Quicker pelts on glass

that gently rouse him – shift toward what they are 
from what he heard them as just briefly before
torn from scene to softening blackness. His thoughts
    begin to clothe things. 

so often

insignificant, not real 
sweet or

sorrowful as such, just

goodbye lacking 
finality, even

when it is.