Reading the book RAIN again

there isn’t enough rain in it

outside the blue flowers

whose names I don’t know

shine in a strange wet light

I remember when M.

was so sad I was jogging

through the rain around the park

it was just barely spring

the woods were lovely

dark and deep

and in a little cluster

were those blue flowers

they seemed among the trees

to be our friendship or something strangely 

out of place on Earth