Fly then…
but you don’t fly, little one…
little brown one…
little brownie in my house.

Go count the Safeway clearance grains.
scattered yesterday
to keep you away.

No more crushing of paper
or pounding my drum.

Don’t scurry more
across this fake wood floor.

I came in from the rain!

They made it rain too many times a day
with their hoses with noses
spewing nasty water…
Plus the Mother’s rain that night
I crushed your big paper
between the sofas;
and rattled dirty dishes.

Tried to help, I did!

Not my fault!

Rain, rain! Every day! Rain!
Wet, wet, wet! All the time, wet!
My grass, mushy with sponge rotted roots!

My tree, you see, you see, is dying
from the snot of that dead
rubber snake and its metal noses!

You see the death of it!
Leaves, bare branches, lichen, and moss!
But one! Just one pink flower
this gale season!
A sole fallen blossom.

I taught the snake a new lesson,
little brown one.
The grass will find root.
And your tree will revive.

You found me safe, and
thought you might help;
but I, knowing your type,
and knowing few others of my kind
are so kindly toward yours,
need a quieter home when my guests arrive.

Your bumps in the night,
bad odors when you rage,
odd mews and music,
might scare them away.

So, go, dear Brownie Banshee…
little one who came
just to escape the rain.