All day yesterday it poured.

Rain came down and enveloped the house like the shade of a maple tree, and I couldn’t stop thinking about the last time you took me morel hunting.

We had ignored all warnings of rain that day, because through our eyes, the sky was green and the grass was blue.

Dismissing the protection of a tall maple, we leaned against a young paper white birch. Your fingers found the hem on my shirt. The curled edges of the bark left thin cuts above the dimples on my back.

Yesterday I stood at the end of the driveway, water swirling around my bare feet, lightning touching ground in the field. You called me inside, put a towel around my shoulders, and said the forecast called for blue skies tomorrow.

first published in Love Manifesto Issue 1