The rain began
to fall behind me
as I crossed
the border
I expected it
to chase after me
and talk excitedly
to me in raindrops
about this & that
that & this
- but, it didn't.
It fell in one country
and not the other.
It was as if the rain
had mislaid its passport
or hadn't received
a visa to rain here.
I cycled off
into the Ardennes
looking back
at the Dutch rain
falling frustratedly
unable to understand
the sun
talking in Belgian.
Dónall Dempsey
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/right-to-rain-for-anne-on-her-birthday-to-be/
