The Body Of One

Glad that at last the litter and waste of winter,
Drift ends of dirty snow and the icy splinter
Of eaves trough decoration, dissolve again,
I stand at the window watching the first spring rain.

Let it come down, let it come down in torrents,
I signal the clouds, so great is my abhorrence
For the sooty lives of houses, for the unkept
Complexions of fields dulled by the months they have slept.

Strike to the bone, let the earth again be clean
That willows and lilacs can line the air with green
And hold their color, that the least bird throat
Can point to the sun and form no tarnished note.

I would spare nothing the fresh birth of grass.
If rain by touch can make this come to pass
I will deploy my roots nor hold aloof
This body of one who is sheltered under a roof.