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Sunday, May 26, 2013


Rain runs in scurrying rivulets across my tight porch roof,
Reaching the flourishing, carefully selected plant life in the moist bed below,
Bringing relief to thirsty root, stem and blossom;
Dripping wetness refreshes my world and home.

Across my end of town the very same rain falls 
Without mercy on roofless friends huddled under grey, lifeless bridges,
Serving the hurried traffic above with no thought of the life beneath;
Rainy wetness, one more pressing challenge to master.

Grown men and children thrown together into the wetness 
Of this unforgiving, hard, muddy world,
Where what little is owned is now damp, musty;
Working on moldy uselessness and disease.

Same cold rain, falling on two spots, same community,
Nourish blooming flowers and persistent weeds,
Rolling off secure rooftops and stark infrastructure;
Two worlds, seldom connected, sharing the wetness so differently.

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