Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Flight of the Droplet

So sudden a raindrop falls through
open hands cupped to catch the flying bead

Trying to smash fingers closer
as to save such perfection

Always reaching the cold ground beneath
the comfort of warm protecting hands

Once, maybe twice does the droplet stay
at the center of the palm, seeping into the skin

Becoming a part of the hand, the body, the mind
even when the senses fail to notice

1 comment:

Doug said...

Your poem is like a pretty flight which ends when you meet someone :)