Saturday, March 10, 2012

In My Place

Through the door and across the sodden field
I can see a solitary tree
Springing like a bow released
-Recoiled and coiled over again-
Flagging on the passage
Of the next rain shower:
Rainfall ahead for the next ten miles.
And then without prelude or
Even a polite introduction
It falls, in a common chorus of paradiddles,
Pop-corning drops on the fabric roof,
Teasing like a big brother.
Will it ever crease, or will it mete out water
In such random measure
Just a bit now, to gently remind,
And quite a bit more later
To put me in my place,
Which seems to be
Somewhere damp
And in between
Fish and fowl?

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