Rain sings

softly in the evening

pattering shingles

pinging gutters

making puddles.

On the porch

I close my eyes

feel cool breezes

here, now

no tomorrows

no yesterdays

just now, only now

a gift unfolding.

Who can imprison the wind

even the soft, whispering wind?

Who can possess her?

She carves mountains

makes deserts

carries the rain.

I think of Bruce

“Be water, my friend.”

Yes, be water

flowing

adaptable

uncageable

powerful

washing away cities

cutting canyons

reducing rock to sand.

I am of you

Wind and Rain.

I am of you.