Into The Seep

Now, I think
the heavens broke first and
rain roared through cracks, began separating
into streams in the long fall, into drops to spot
and merge on the brown ground. To
gravity marrying water to seep through dark,
into this free fall, below.

To where I stand, head exposed
to the damp air and the green yellow moss leaves
grasping drops, tendril fingers curling and
as drops roll through, letting go
to fall on me; decorating my head
with cool, my shoulders with wet, too fast
past but I attempt to see, can't help it.

I close my eyes. I am trying
to be healed. Hearing one drop,
open my eyes to many, silent drops,
with one sound after so many, like grief is,
onto the granite edged earth.

There is no help here.
I step out, walk up the hill, under blue sky.
Riding in the back, I watch the clouds
assemble again. Another gray rain
begins to feed twilight's green fields.

I turn away but the sound stammers,
so I turn to a sliver of silver gray light
flickering down between torn clouds,
showing a giant line of billowing rain curtains
dancing across bright green. And I think
beauty helps, and we are gone.