November Rain

The rain is slightly confusing.
An outlier in November,
Heavy and nearly nonsensical,
It is dark and warm
As it leaches the leaves off the birches.
Soon the oak leaves will fall as well
Though the beeches still resist
And will chatter late into the winter,
Loitering long enough to
Sing welcome to the spring.

Out my window I notice
That this persistent shower
Is washing the bird droppings off my car’s windshield
Oh joy!

Plopped there by chickadees and titmice

Who have gathered sunflower seeds at the nearby feeder
Grinds from their gizzards.
I feed them as they bring me happiness
-The nature of joy found in such common beauty-
And so at the moment
I gather in
And am buoyed by two joys.