In a Dry Season


Awake again late at night
in a dry season
you hear rain begin to fall
only as memory.


It has to at first. Otherwise
that faint thrum overhead
and the sibilant spatter on glass
would be meaningless.


But now, there’s no doubt.
And sleep, so elusive,
comes back easily with the rain,
deep and untroubled,
breaking a long drought.





About the Author

Don Thompson has been writing about the San Joaquin Valley for over fifty years, including a dozen or so books and chapbooks. For more info and links to his publications, visit his website: