Rain-flying

The violent smell of this acid rain
Knows my name
And how to find me,
So from behind the quiet of my hiding place,
Comes a whole year since I last entertained
The thought
Of this irresistible dance of a season,
And so my flight finds reason
Beyond the wickedness of curious
Little boys,
Beyond snapping jaws of dogs I do avoid,
I must be too quick,
Too fragile.
Then my agile unsteps
Become patterned and parallel
To the dodging of rain-drops,
And whenever the rain stops,
I will still be there.
Either alone or less alive than this frail body
Might be able to carry against air,
So I lose flight from too-weak wings,
And I come across a morning
that brings a different tone
To most Saturdays.
You know where to find me-
Always outside dead, on the floor
This rainy season, I’m sure.