Poem: Shelter

Shelter

I would like to understand this side of raindrops,
how things seem wet and dry, and how in between

you seem to know what I want to say before I even
think of it. Words float like clouds in the blue sky

that separates us. The world is pregnant with rain,
an occassional thunderclap. You lie back and watch

lightning create patterns across the gray canopy,
while I am afraid that we will merely get wet.

(first draft?)