Raindrops

Raindrops

Glad I’m not a raindrop falling

From ten thousand feet in the air

Landing with a hard splat on the highway

Dividing and joining with others to run

Down the ditches red mud along for the ride

Glad I’m not a raindrop falling on the roses

Soft landings with no bottoms sharp thorns

Splitting drops in half no injury or hurt

Painless tears running down a jagged stem

Only to be swallowed up by thirsty roots

Glad I am not a raindrop falling from on high

Freezing into balls of crystal with no flexibility

Stacking up like congressmen in cold masses

Chilling everything with cold unchanging views

What future promise do crystal balls hold

Glad I am not a raindrop falling into a lake

Pounding the surface in vain spreading abroad

Lost in the masses swallowed in vastness

Identity lost waiting to be reborn once more

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Photo: Dwight L. Roth