The Softest of beads dribble southward
offering a glisten to dirtied sidewalks
washing away sins of the oppressed cracks
in so many forms she rinses clean

Heavy, thin, drizzling, pounding
against my weathered panes
a sigh pauses to pass through my lips
smooth elbows steady a September retrospection

my orbs, light as the cerulean clouds
look past the garden pond, and the geese
pitter patter of mind numb, threatening to flood
why is it, we wish to truly pause, only when it rains

The beauty of a cirrus' fleecy tears
remains, although it has taken several forms
the icy flakes of a wondrous blanket
or the stinging slap of a heavy handed hail

In those few moments of elusive ponder
I felt my heart flutter to race
my breath thwarted to sieve through reason
and rode the back of the smallest drop,

as it landed upon a puddle

I felt the ripples part
as it welcomed us to its liquid keep
dancing within the intricate patterns
offering the intimacy of a mirror image
to a young maiden,that held the face of beauty

her smile bled deeper, bedazzling even me

As soon as it settled, the drops ceased to sing


My barefeet pad over pale peach ceramics
closing the distance between life and zen
I looked upon an antique oil lamp
that hangs heavy in the foyer

the woman in her fathomous beauty
standing naked and proud,
arms coiled about her waist
dreaming in the light of her pedestal

entwined by lattice, weaved of silken thread
entombed by recyled beads of pure mineral oil
the faint whirl of a motor
all I have now to drench me

in the melancholy bliss ... of tears..

I leaned in that much closer
a whimsy of envy settled upon her solitude
her only purpose to enchant the droplets
and in that lone moment...I understood

We blended as one...and I suddenly knew
That I had enraptured metamorphosis
for a few stolen moments..

....I became the rain....

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