Rain

[tylik]

Am I growing old and slow
that I can find my drama
in the slow steady cycles of the seasons
and the wandering paths of the weather?

I went out into a heavy summer dusk,
the parched rhododendrons making angular droops,
the lawn a thin gold fuzz, looking for the hose
as the first tiny drops settled like blessings on my arms.

My window is dark, but through it comes
the rustle and fall of water, seeking the ground.