After the Rain

A dog drags a trembling life
across the street, a kid carries his god
in a plastic bag under his jacket,
The crows want to be theologians once again.
After the rain the world becomes other
The river is rolling towards me,
shouting so loud that I will go under.
A storm, they say, waits in the books.
We will read them after the rain,
if there is to be any After-the-Rain.