by Jim Fleming
July, 1997
It's raining. Grey clouds, gusty winds, steady rain.
The wind blows the drops in swirling dances that
End in random patterns down the window pane.
Single wet trails merge into a complex plat.
The journeys mapped on the cold pane bring to mind
Our own trip across the plane of earthly life.
Random patterns of lives crossed, or quests to find
That one contact to join with and ease life's strife.
Lonely treks buffeted by the winds of chance,
Like wind-blown drops of water, seem powerless
To control or guide life's lonely happenstance.
Much of life is like rain's wind-blown randomness.
Water is life--no options, death or water.
Clouds give birth. From vapor to droplets. New lives,
Reverse of ours; down not up to here-after.
The stillborn consumed by cumulous mid-wives.
Some drops die prematurely. Aborted by
Nature's electric knife--droplets to vap'rous
Ozone--dead in an instant of blazing light,
Their potential contribution torn from us.
For some the journey is down to destiny--
Ephemeral, dazz'ling, brilliant. Rainbows
Awe and inspire us with all too brief beauty.
Lights arc'd over heaven, too soon the glow goes.
For most the final product is more mundane.
Common labor and day-to-day droll pursuits,
Their very commoness masks their claim to fame--
Life proceeds like water'd seeds producing fruits.
And the cycle of Terran life flows anew.
Vapor to cloud, cloud to earth, earth to streams
Cascading rivers ride to Oceanic brew
Where life began, water raised by sun to dreams.
