Fruit Loops In A Kline Bottle

the rain has come from the land of rain
filling the air with sheets of torrent and the scent
of tomorrows immaculate breeze.
blackbirds crowd the canopies and caw fables -
in the deluge. 
clouds boil overhead; diffuse and gun-barrel grey.
the hum of loose change and lightning hangs 
from the roof of a squall. and all the stars
are marching in the dark.
like fruit loops in a Kline Bottle
painted black.

just enough