It begins to rain

(I found this in an old story of mine. I like it).

The hedgehog shakes his whiskers
and withdraws from our moon-white offering
Ah. Notice the first spots on the roof,
the bruises raked across the patio.
Get the umbrella, dear. I have no desire
to feel the water gather in silver rails
down my back. I don't want
the clammy hands, the skin like a frog's.
My coat is hanging on the stair rail,
my scarf streaming from the pocket
like a slick road. I'm sorry '
there is room under the umbrella
for just one. You'll have to walk beside me
in your jacket and your trilby.
Hurry ' I can hear the train carooing
beyond London's balustrades and streetsigns
Take your keys ' and the smaller suitcase
The rain is beginning to canter.
The sky is smudged,
and I can't bear to look in your eyes.
Oh, open the umbrella
Hold the door, would you