On Rain

Rivulets of rain run through my toes,

bare and digging into the muddy ground.

I follow these murky tears down,

down to the creek dividing lawn from brambles,

down to where ten thousand tiny trickles

join a single stream. Dirt disperses and

individuals disappear into one, clear whole,

flowing downhill to the mounds

I piled with dad to trap ourselves a pond.

At the edge of our property the stream flows on,

down below the rotten boards and barbed wire

marking the end of my muddy little realm.

If I could I’d ride the stream

down to the sea and sail away with it

to find where water goes

when it rejoins itself.


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