The sun hits
The tree tops
Like foamy crests
On ocean waves
All white and
Rolling as the
Sun moves higher
Into the sky
Tree trunks lean
Like firewood against
Each other and
Oh the smell
Of earth bathes
My nostrils there
A damp coolness
Like a refrigerator
Door opening in
July on the
Forest floor as
Dew streaks all
The car windows
Cardinals sing from
Bushes and treetops
Calling their forever
Mate that’s bobbing
From line to
Post like a
Telegraph message morning
Hasn’t arrived though
You can see
It’s puffs of
Yellow like a
Steam locomotive just
Beyond the hill
As no more
Than a thousand
Crickets coming off
Third shift wish
A warm goodnight
This morning I
Sat outside after
The rain suddenly
I felt a
Drop of water
Hit my sleeve
At first perplexed
I looked up
To see nothing
Eventually more drops
Arrived and I
Began to anger
But move I
Did not anger
Turned to acquiescence
Turned to acceptance
That I was
Meant to be
Wet that day
So goes love
So goes life
It is raining
A small puddle
Forms at my
Feet bubbles born
By drops like
Rising bread loaves
From mother’s oven
I imagine a
Marsh with frogs
Leaping as I
Listen to the
Tiny tat tat
Tat of raindrops
And see the
Water collecting on
Grass like a
Thousand distant galaxies
The last of
Night surrounds me
Darkness haunts everything
Sleeps including these
Words trees blend
With sky creating
A blank canvas
Upon which the
Day will draw
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 