how comforting
the visit of rain
on a sleepless night
the finger-drumming of drops
on the roof
of my wakefulness
a cold and lonely discourse
right above the warm
cocoon of my bed
and this one speaks
to something deep-seated
indeterminate fundamental
stripped down and basic
tender hard-to-reach
so I listen though it’s
the need that hears
at least until sleep decides
we’ve both gotten enough
for one night