Walking through Rain

It was just a drizzle when I left

And had nearly ended when I arrived,

But in between, the clouds were cleft

In two, and every surface thrived,

Enlivened by the drumbeat of

The pouring rain from up above.

Puddles grew to a rippling pool,

While little rivers formed to rule

The roads where they were running.

Most people paused beneath a tree,

And they, perhaps, were far more cunning

Than I would prove myself to be,

My sneakers sopping wet despite

The little umbrella perched above my head.

I must have been a disheveled sight,

Pressing on through what the clouds had shed,

But as I reached my journey’s end,

The rain was slowing up ahead,

And soon it stopped. The drops that did descend

Were dripping just from me.

Although I’d hoped to avoid rain’s fall

While walking home, I find I’m free

Of anger toward the timing of it all.

I’m covered, drenched, but something’s there

Within the molecules that share

Their bonds with me,

Supporting life across eternity.

 

For a couple weeks, I've been teasing the fact that I've gotten caught in a couple cloudbursts while walking home. This poem is about one of those instances. I left the office, seeing that it looked like it might start raining soon and hoping I could get home before it began, thinking that the rain might last a while. Instead, a downpour commenced almost as soon as I had stepped outside, and continued until just before I reached the gate of my apartment building, when it slowed and then stopped. So, it turned out that I had picked the worst possible time to go, except for the fact that I ended up not really minding being drenched by the end of it all.