Raindrops

The hedgehog shakes his whiskers
and withdraws from our moon-white offering
Ah.
The surface is pumice.
Notice the first spots of rain on the roof,
the bruises raked across the patio.
Get the umbrella, dear. I have no desire
to feel the water gather into silver rails
on the back of my neck - 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 wet road after rain

I'm sorry - there is room under the umbrella
for just one. You'll have to walk beside me
in your jacket and trilby.
Hurry - I can hear the train carooing
beyond the fences and London streetsigns.
Take you keys - take 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