I wait
by the lamppost
the next day,
as droplets of cool,
fresh,
sparkling water
fall from the sky,
coating the world in a thin layer
of newness.
I think about
all the places
these droplets
have been before.
If they have seen,
the top of mountains,
or the canopies
of forests,
so full of life,
it breeds,
not only creatures,
but hope.
If they have seen,
the tongues
of young children,
all eager
for their first taste
of the world's most
simple
and
unapologetic
gift.
If they have kissed,
the skin of my lover,
cooling him,
calming him,
when I couldn't.
I hope that
I can be there for him
now,
so that the rain
doesn't have to.
I bless the rain,
for taking care of
the flowers,
and the birds
in the trees,
and the fish
in the stream,
and him.
And for making itself
anew
to be there,
time and again.
