Last night, when rain stroked
the scarred earth, entering the cracks
with small invasive hands,
and clouds sang the cantos
of momentary loss, shaking the trees,
we lay in our beds breathless,
feeling relief creep through our bodies
feet first . . .
–excerpt from “Storm after Drought” in A Light Dusting of Breath by Donna Pucciani (virtual artists collective/purple flag, 2015). First published in After Hours.