The sky is weeping hopelessly,
tears rolling down the eaves,
and dropping onto the bare uplifted
limbs of the lilikoi.

                            Under the eaves,
                            tail straight down,
                            shoulders hunched,
                            a lone dove,

                                           unable to resist a wary,
                                           twist of the head,
                                           although all is still,

                                 except the fluttering
                                 of ginger leaves
                                 and the unceasing lament
                                 of the rain.