Jacqueline Woodson contrasts the rain in Greenville, South Carolina, to the rain in Brooklyn, New York. Mentioning the Southern rain in two poems, the poet connects them with evocative sensory images and memories of her family.

In "night bus," she speaks of her father's visit from Ohio to South Carolina. He arrives on the night bus in a heavy rain, saying he is sorry. She projects forward to when it stops, which will bring the "sweet smell of honeysuckle." Her memory includes her parents reuniting and "hugging in the warm Carolina rain" in a "perfect Now."

In "brooklyn rain," she tells the reader that the rain in New York is "different" than that in Greenville. Drawing on several senses and alliteration with the initial consonant sound "s," she forms a rich image of her Southern memory. There, the rain smelt of honeysuckle, and she remembers the feel of pine needles squishing underfoot as well as the way she would "slip and slide through grass."

In New York, the rain makes things seem gray, and her mother wants them to stay inside. "Down South," however, she had been able to go outside and go places and stick out her tongue and taste the rain. She evokes memories of her grandmother and her "Daddy's garden." Thinking of Southern rain makes her think of happiness and sunshine.