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Poem

I know I write a lot about my morning walks…let me now explain…
You see…each walk is different…like this morning…after the rain.

Last night’s rain was over but it’s vestiges were everywhere
Drops still clinging to the trees…the smell of rain still in the air.

The moon had set before I woke and the clouds had all flown by
making room up in the heavens for the stars to fill the sky.

When their starlight hit the raindrops…still clinging to the trees
they looked like little Christmas ornaments swaying in the breeze.

I like to feel the raindrops fall on me as I stand under the trees
I wait for them to be shaken loose by the early morning breeze.

The birds are still asleep…making sure when it’s their turn…their voices will be in tact
They sleep soundly knowing the crickets are already performing the first act.

This time of year…this early…it’s mostly rabbits that I see…
content to nod as I walk by or occasionally, share the walk with me.

Even the water in the gulf is sleeping…gently rocking sailboats that are mooring.
In the silence of the morning…I can hear…the waves softly snoring.

I always have the urge…after a rain…when I walk down the middle of the empty street
to walk and jump and splash like a child…in the puddles at my feet.

Remembering something my parents said…(it now seems like a hundred years before)
They’d smile as they watched us saying…that’s exactly what puddles are for.

I like to run my hand along the plants and the bushes…any place the rain has lingered
thinking how magical the same rain that fell from the clouds…is now resting on my fingers.

As I head across our lawn once home…
thinking of all these morning memories I’ve amassed.
I realize the only thing left to do after the rain
is to walk barefoot in the grass.

I know I write a lot about my morning walks…
but each walk in its own way entertains…
each walk is unique and magical and different…like this morning…after the rain.
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