Raindrops
Translucent and cold
By the time they strike the ground
They are ages old
The way they hit the pavement
The way stories of clouds are never told
The nerve of them is daunting
When they wet the fabric of the fold
Of clothes is simply, truly, clearly, bold
Each individual raindrop
Has no fixed shape or mold
The torrent awakens those outside
And in the night it croons a little cry
It pitter-patters, flutters, flies
And from their dance upon the roof
Comes the feeling called, "aloof"
Calming like a lullaby
When they fall they never die
Falling from a cloudy sky
Gnarled branches, crooked
Never lie
And in the darkness, the wind sighs