Pull the silver valve
towards you
marked with a tiny H
barely legible
it’s been worn and leathered
fingers repeating the same motions
year
after year
granddaughter
after granddaughter
wait
half a second
stretches long as the water
will carry you
a moment
a few moments
a thousand moments
how long is the time between
when your hands turn on the shower
and the water gushes out
raining thunderstorms on your forehead
a hesitation
cool at first
sweeter by the minute
drip
drip
drip
down your nose
stay quiet
so you don’t scare the deer
maybe they’ll think
it’s raining
in your little corner of the night