Rain

“Rain on My Window” by Arinda Foxglove

 

 

 

why do some raindrops
race down the windowglass
hurrying straight
to their death
on the sill
while others crawl crookedly
changing direction
from hesitant pauses
unsure of themselves
and their fate

 

why do some raindrops
travel their journey
alone and untouched
by love or by hate
while others collide
in mutual acts
of pointless destruction
or nudge and embrace
in brief conjugal blending
of fluids with partners
becoming the fuller and better

 

how do some raindrops
apply their free will
do they follow some signal
from colors that swim
in their domed iridescence
or is it the window
through which they can see
and then mimic
or more wisely learn from
the choices I made
on my own slide down my side
of life’s pane of glass