It’s curious how rain switches slants;
falling to the left, to the right,
buffeted by winds unable to halt
the inevitable descent, the crash,
the splatter on an open palm.
I have tried to hold the rain,
have set my eye on the smallest drops
and worried for their safety.
Nimble though I was, I could not
hold a single one and watched them
splatter on an open palm.
Snow is another matter; fleet of foot
and deftly spinning I gathered flakes
to cradle each in comfort. Delicate,
pristine, tiny mysteries that chilled
my trembling hand but briefly...
I have tried to hold the rain,
tried to offer comfort to the snow
-falling to the left, to the right.
It’s curious how rain switches slants.
I wonder if a tear's as hard to hold?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Their are no tears to hold on sunny days! Rain is intoxicating...