It rains, anyway

We’d spent the morning conjuring sun,

but it rained anyway.

I kissed the taste of it from your mouth,

your shoulders level with the horizon

as the sky bruised and cracked.

We wore the wrong coats for the wrong day,

skidded over heather, as sheep bellowed reproaches at us.

Lifted our collars against insistent drops,

watched our feet disappear in mist, as the clouds rolled.

Back to your room, not the wind on my face but your breath.

We rain danced, conjured sun.