Caveat: Poem #982

I'll take some time now, meditating:
my strange relationship to rain,
which often boils down to waiting -
you'd think it feels somewhat mundane -
but no, in fact it's more like soothing
and letting clouds present their smoothing,
on-flowing torrents for the trees
to drink. This flow of water frees
not just the pebbles from the seething
and urgent earth, but also thoughts,
which surge and dodge life's random lots,
but then are loosened from their wreathing
constraints to fly against the dark
and overarching sky's gray arc.

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