“The rain falls where it wishes
There’s not much I can do about it”
Why would you do anything to the rain?
There is a joy in raindrops,
That is separate from any comparisons to tears.
You have not laughed until you have been caught
with sodden sneakers,
and dripping hair
by an unexpected torrent
with nowhere to go but further into the rain.
Raindrops can never be separated from tears –
persistent tears that will not be stemmed
after something sharp pierced the pipeline
and yet laughter still leaks out of bitter tears.
Joy and sorrow
The rain falls on two bodies
Tidally locked in sodden dance
Take the rain away
The planets spin out
Drifting into the cold dark night.
A hill with clean lines has nowhere to hide
Undappled green against a blue sky
Oh for a life as open as that hill.
Leave trees for the forest,
Make appointments with the sun
Let the light touch every blade of grass.
In the end, it all hinges on something.
What exactly that is everyone forgot.
If anyone figures it out they should tell someone,
somebody might want to write a poem or something.
Voices in the wind
Lightning whispers with crickets
Friends stride with lightning
Mango seeds planted so long everyone forgot,
planted seeds in the midst of sorrow,
so deep, perhaps the soil will help you forget.
Dark soil, dark as the humor we use to laugh off life
When life feels like a lost child.
Years later when you still can’t forget
You come back and realize you did forget the mango seeds.
Trees grow sweet fruit even in sad soil.
Younger eyes watched older hands
Shoveling a trench inside the earth
sweat drenched brow wiped clear by gloved hands
I marveled at the earthworm
I run to show the sleek garden king
He pauses, they both return to their tasks –
Working the earth to bring life.
I learned from them both,
Lovingly carved in paper dirt,
I dig a path for irrigation.
It all peels like an orange
Round the spiral path of life.
We toss it all aside
Hoping it will disappear
But we cannot treat our love like that.
Emotions are our clothes
We shed them when we like
But even when they’re cast aside
Composting in the ground
They leave soil rich with life and cannot stay alone.
A valley is a place where mountains ranges meet
Humbled to equality, they play together
in the tall trees and quiet brooks
Mountains becoming as little children
For that is what it is to play.
The bell sits at the bottom now
It lost its perch above the ground
So it resides below the floor
In a place where it will ring no more
Weddings, funerals, or births
Simply waiting for new earth
To fill the broken cracks
And forge it smooth as a sheet of wax
For every bell will toll again
With the clarity of a bright blue lake.
You cannot sift the poison from the juice
The bitter cup remains bonded with the sweet
It runneth over with a heavenly grace
And yet we season it to fit our taste.
We cannot help but add our special sauce
What can we do but sit and drink
But lo I look and someone took my glass
And slipped me something clear and bright and pink.