October 2000
Patterning their steps to the rhythm
Too low in frequency for our ears,
How they cry and whimper to pay nature good company,
And laugh again, mocking it all,
How they let weather and its misery
Soak them, be absorbed, accepted and processed,
For they are familiar to the rain,
Part of the rain,
But because they've been through it,
They have seen beyond it;
It is no barrier.
....
Why do I smile at this,
But still feel the solidness of the rain,
And the sadnesses,
And life,
Instead of adjusting fluidly
To the ebb of the weather,
Accepting it, absorbing it, processing it,
And watching it drain, later,
When it is no longer of use?
...
I sometimes think of the children,
How nothing is their enemy because they accept it as their own,
And then let it wash away,
Silencing it by joining it.
They are cleaner than I.
