Fortuitous Poem by Robert Penn Warren, II

We would have no doubt have gone that night too,
If the rain had been a different kind of rain,
If it had been a light sweet rain,
Falling out of a high sky,
The kind that barely whispers
With a silky sound on the surface of the water
You are swimming in,
Or, if it had been a driven, needle pointed, cold cathartic rain
To make you want run along the beach
And yell before you took refuge in the sea,
Or even if it had been a torrent,
The kind you get on the Gulf,
That is like nothing so much as what happens
When the bottom finally bursts
Out of a big paper bag
Suspended full of water.