Dave Bonta's "Rain" is only four lines long, but it packs in a quiet idea about how work, reading, and writing can blur together. The speaker describes the morning's work as "water into water," a image of rain falling into puddles, streams, or a larger body of water, where one thing simply becomes another and you can't tell where the first ends. Then the poem makes a comparison: the work is also "books into books out of books." Reading, writing, and drawing on other writing seem to flow together the same way.
The speaker's feeling is hard to pin down, and that's part of the charm. There's a calm, almost meditative acceptance here, but also a hint of wry self-awareness, as if the speaker knows this work goes in circles. The mood is hushed and reflective, like a rainy morning spent indoors. The repeated words make the lines feel like a loop, gentle and endless, much like rainfall itself.