Like Rain on the Red Maple

Raindrops trampoline
down the red maple
one springy purple leaf
to another until
coming to rest
in the sand-bound grass.
While the rain sinking
through the ground
to its roots literally
brings it life,
its acrobatics upon
the maple’s leaves
bring it to life.
Perhaps that’s what
life’s woes do to us,
falling upon us and
rattling down our spirits
until they drop us
to our knees.
What if we’re more
like that tree,
standing tall and
resilient, knowing
woes are part of living.
We can repel them,
not only surviving
but perhaps emerging
with spirits full of life.

Today’s right-out-of-bed on a rainy morning poem.

Getting Out of the Rain

The rain will be upon me soon
and I can’t escape it.
I’d hoped to beat it to the punch,
get some work done outside
before outside forces me
back in, but I just can’t
keep pace anymore.
Not even with rain clouds
slowly oozing toward me,
a grayer gray growing
in the southwest sky,
a greener green filling
the lower left of the TV screen.
I’ve found you just can’t
outrun rain, not if you’re
in its path, and sometimes shelter
means more than an umbrella
and dissociating oneself
from soggy reality.
I was just talking about rain,

Supposed to Be

It was never supposed to be this way, I heard her say amid the din of Starbucks. And that was all I heard. There was silence among the voices for a second after that. I glanced over my shoulder and saw the 20-something girl with her brown hair cinched into a ponytail I thought might be metronomically fun to run behind touch the glass face of her phone. I saw the joining of two minds, maybe even two hearts, glare from the morning sun and then fade to black, only to be replaced by little figures, icons with no religious meaning, save for the worship of celebrity and people she called friends who she’d never met before. I felt sad for the girl, as I waited for my overpriced cup of joe with “Joe” written on the side. I guess her It grew into something she had not expected and didn’t desire, a wish unfulfilled, a hope crushed, a lesson hard-learned. I’ve had my share of “never supposed’s,” hard times and bad choices, go-away lines and harsh voices. They’re a matter of thinking ahead into a too bright sun and behind at smiles bathed in a dimming twilight with a myopic eye behind rose-colored glasses. The coffee fogged my specs, clouding my position in the now, but I knew it would pass. All I had to do was let it cool a bit before I gulped it down. You see, life’s built upon a foundation of scars and you learn such things after a few scaldings.