Raining Rain, You Know

by Richard Epstein

It rained spiders, and the buck-winged ants danced
Tarantellas, piling their wet crumbs high.
The nifty birds swooped and withdrew and glanced
Off trees to take down skeeters at an angle.
You could observe them wave ta-ta, then dangle
An un-et worm from each clawed foot. Goodbye,
They sang, we shall be back when we need more.
Say, it must be summer, the yard a store

House of pies. The skeeters chock full of me
Are birdstuff now, which makes the birds me too.
I shan’t eat ants, but who knows what I do
Ingest, the dust of Virg and Wyatt Earp
Fried and gravied: it’s tombstone time. I burp
And green the summer into history.

More of Richard Epstein’s work is available at http://www.rhepoems.blogspot.com.