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Poem

The water knows it’s raining before we do.

If only we would look.

I looked
 
And I still didn’t know.
 
I saw
 
But I didn’t feel.

Then those ripples began to collide. 

My train of thought left the station. I began my ride.

“Why are there so many ripples? And why one right after the next?”

“Were there fish underneath, coming up for air and breaking the surface tension?”
 
“No. There wouldn’t be so many fish in this shallow pond.”

"Were there flies lowering themselves to the water and then jumping up?”
 
“No. There couldn’t be so many flies.”

I felt a drop.
 
No. I realized it could only be rain; it was then that I felt a drop.

Now that my mind knows, my sense of touch knows.

But let’s not forget that the water knows it’s raining before we do. 

And it does its best to let us know.
 
But if we’re not paying attention
 
We may get caught in the storm.

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