Souls and Raindrops

I am sitting by an open window,

the tapping of my computer keys echoing the pitter-patter of rain.

Outside, an orchestra of raindrops -- the drumming on a rooftop, the clinking on a rainspout, 

the swishing under car tires, and the plip-plopping on an umbrella.

Crescendo, pianissimo, fortissimo.

I am sitting by an open window,

a red cardinal painted in relief against a branch slick and shiny with water. 

Outside, an artist's canvas -- red raincoat, yellow pansy, pink rose, and blue gazebo

vibrant and alive in a backdrop of grey.

Abstract, surreal, stark.

I am sitting by an open window,

words written in raindrops and poetry whispered in the wind.

Outside, a river of books --  of once upon a times and the ends, of princesses and kings,

of loves lost and friendships found, of good guys and bad.

Fantasy, adventure, memoir.

I am sitting by an open window...

wishing I were a raindrop.

*from the files of very bad poetry by bia

And for your pleasure, a real poem by a real poet ;-)

Souls And Rain-Drops ~by Sidney Lanier

Light rain-drops fall and wrinkle the sea,
Then vanish, and die utterly.
One would not know that rain-drops fell
If the round sea-wrinkles did not tell.

So souls come down and wrinkle life
And vanish in the flesh-sea strife.
One might not know that souls had place
Were't not for the wrinkles in life's face.