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
