Ionia vanishes.
daunting no bird
the thick drops fall
sparsely from mountain-gutted cloud
plick
plock. pluck
to hot stone
some gone
before they hit the ground.
shush-hush
sigh the grateful palms
through one blue rift
the sun inserts his lever
green fate
no sweat
from the balustrade
leisurely the women
gather in the clothes.
robert dickerson
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sicilian-shower/
