
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.