The Bad Weather Club

The Bad Weather Club

All it takes to join is a love
of the majority of rain,

rain cut on the bias and rain
light as seaspray and,

especially, rain right before
it is rain, dark sky

during day, birds whooping
and trilling their

faces off, leaves on the trees
twitching, fingers on

piano keys. Our clubhouse
is made of glass,

we spend our meetings gazing
out, chanting, let it

not clear quite yet. That’s it.
Do not confuse us

with the Cheerers of Calamity,
it’s not destruction

we love, but the clouds, hands
held over our heads.