These are moments
I wouldn’t trade for a world
Moments of coming home
A step ahead of the storm
Moments of running out to greet it
Moments of dancing
On mud
On grass
On raindrops
On wind
And he comes running too
And spins me through the wild dark of storm
And kisses me under the cold fall of sky
Not because he loves it like me
But because he loves me.
Today I wander out
into the rained world
Looking for what?
I don’t know
But I am looking.
The colors are different
in a rained world
All shades of green
Orange deepening into brown
Gray and black and white and gray.
There is so much water
Little rivers
Small lakes
Tiny waterfalls
I come from a dryer land than this.
My spring daffodils hide their faces
Raindrops fell fiercely here
I lift one
Mud on its petals
Grime on satin
Still beautiful.
I walk a rain-sticky road
and stop to look at the other worlds
reflected in water pools
If I jumped
would I fall through?
A strange-shaped stump
Like the throne of some woodland elf-king
calls me from my safe lane.
Grass is tall under the trees
Thick with last year’s leaves
My hem turns cold against my ankles.
Back in the warmth of my house
My eyes are dark
My fingers, stiff
But I think I have found
what I was looking for.
A creation always reflects its creator
In rainwater I see His reflection
more clearly.
But why are you here?
Glowing in the town-lit darkness
far from your green-growing sisters.
Were you
a grubby, child-fisted gift?
But who would drop that?
Perhaps you were
a token of unwanted love
cast away.
Or maybe
one among many
discarded for your imperfections.
Or maybe
a young girl plucked you
held you
petals brushed against her cheek
yellow fastened in her hair
til distraction tossed you aside.
I don’t know
why you were left
in a Starbucks parking lot.
But for me
you are unexpected
and bruised
and beautiful.
