Each day the forecast says rain.
I sit on the edge of my bed with one leg outstretched—
Zip up high boots and go out in the dry,
Un-puddle-wonderful world.

Each night my galleon pillow tosses between trembling hands
In the stormy seas of our watershed weeping:

The end of all flesh has now come!
Let the world we have made be undone!

Remorseful, resigned until morning comes
Lift up the latch; let in the light
Welcome the dove with this olive branch offered:
Those who were saved came in two
By two
by two
by two
by me, too.