An Anthology of Rain
--Phillis Levin 
For this you may see no need,
You may think my aim
Dead set on something 
Devoid of conceivable value:
An Anthology of  Rain,
A collection of voices 
Telling someone somewhere
What it means to follow a drop
Traveling to its final place of rest. 
But do consider this request
If you have pressed your nose
Of any shape against a window, 
Odor of metal faint, persistent,
While a storm cast its cloak
Over the shoulder of every cloud 
In sight. You are free to say
Whatever crosses your mind
When you look at the face of time 
In the passing of one drop
Gathering speed, one drop
Chasing another, racing to reach 
A fork in the path, lingering
Before making a detour to join
Another, fattening on the way 
Until entering a rivulet
Running to the sill.
So please accept this invitation: 
You are welcome to submit,
There is no limit to its limit,
Even the instructions are a breeze 
As long as you include
Nothing about yourself
Except your name. Your address 
Remains unnecessary, for the rain
Will find you — if you receive it
It receives you (whether or not 
You contribute, a volume
Is sent). And when you lift
The collection you may hear, 
By opening anywhere, a drop
And its story reappear
As air turns to water, water to air.

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