Somewhere Not Here

by Steve Mitchell

A rain drop

a lonely drop

falls.

Then

that’s not so bad.

And another drop

falls,

round and blue.

Silent.

Kamikaze.

It lands with a tap.

Then, and then,

another drop falls

and another drop and another tap,

drop after drop, tap and tap, side by side,

in groups and in streams, drop and drop and drop they fall.

They drop with abandon, with reckless courage, blind and bleak,

drop and drop and drop they fall on windshields and high wires and guardrails

and ducks in the pond and newspaper umbrellas and wet bags of garbage and

benches and bikes, and drop and drop, the raindrops fall

while clouds huddle close to watch.

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© Steve Mitchell 2015

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