A Subtle Rhyme

The animal brayed again in the rain
where the wind blew.
What would it do?
There was no grain.
Nature’s nothing,
fraught with fever-
drowned the siever.
The neighing sting
withstood the strain
until the twinge became its reliever.

Tonight it is gone with its reliever
gone with its strain
out with its sting,
emptied siever.
This is fever
and its nothing.
There is no grain
scattered or blew
that could replace this bold entrance of rain.

Leonell