I roll down the window in the rain hoping reality will soak in with the droplets. I tilt up my face as I leave the car and let the water shower my features. The downpour is the jolt to living for which I have prayed. I stand on my lawn and rinse the day out of my hair; I clear my brain in the fresh rainwater. The driving rain pounds the house and trees but I feel massaged and cared for. My skin, reflexive, teaches my mind to absorb and hydrate. I turn my thoughts to Greater Powers. Even if the doors have been closed, I can open the windows and let the rain come in.
Soap the windows on some of your ideas so you can work in privacy.
Down to the Watership
The immoderate champions immoderation;
the glutton recommends consumption,
more often than not a drunk will pour you a drink
It is part of the social norm to conform
to the addiction of the day.
If we are all high we laugh at each other’s jokes
and there is less finger pointing about the mess.
When we are all in this together we sink or we swim,
but we mustn’t look around.
Like the rabbits who cannot ask, “Where?”
We try to look at ease with dying
and contented with our lot.
More must be better
for we can’t survive on less than what we’ve got.