Shelter in the Rain

On the phone she tells me
she looks forward to the rain.
She mentions that she forgot her umbrella
again, but she’ll be okay without it.

And would I be kind enough to bring in her book
left outside on the table. Fretting in jest
that the author may not forgive if I don’t hurry,
and refuse her the denouement she hopes for.

I wonder, once more, if it’s forgetfulness.
Does she worry I’ll think she’s foolish or laughable
because she’s neglected to bring an umbrella again?

It’s not any of that. I can hear it in her voice
as she’s walking in the downpour;
the rain chasing away the blue of her black.
Obviously, I remind myself,
it’s not about forgetfulness at all.