Boat Ride

We stopped somewhere
between Near, somewhere
somewhere close to Here--
and the clouds-- whiten
whereas now the sky
breaks free-- lifts its face;
Sun stretches its rays.
Where rain ought to be
none. To the side is.
Stick our fingers in--
needles to our skin.
There's no ryhme for this--
write it down line by
line, word by word, sight
by sight. The side rain
makes my hand tingle--
that feels swell, really.
it must be this place
between Near, somewhere
somewhere close to Here--
what else could it be?