Rain Like This
February 11, 2008
When rain falls like this
on the near side of silence
just before reaching unnoticed,
falling at a pace commensurate
with the ground’s thirst,
infusing green uncut garden grass
with vigor after a winter’s numb,
And when it falls as it does now
onto the goldfish pond,
birthing antiphons of ripples
whose voices diffuse
into a symphonic blend
of crest and trough,
I imagine myself as a fish
gold and languid
unaware that little pieces of my world
fall from on high
just above my plane of knowledge,
bending my resilient canopy,
suffusing water with air,
moving me with vernal pulses,
creating a larger pool in which to swim.
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