I love you
In the way
That the rain loves all
That it falls upon.
The rain kisses
The dirt, the smooth the light,
All turn to
Mud, slippery, dark.
She alters what she envelops,
But only temporarily,
Always temporarily.
When the rain stops,
Everything has a chance to dry.
Yet, all has changed into something new.
The dirt, molded by the pressure of powerful footprints,
The smooth surfaces, made rough from so many attempts to grasp on,
The light surfaces stained from a mixing of mediums.
My storm has passed.
I’m allowing you to dry now.
After you’ve been
Molded, made rougher, stained,
And I wonder:
Is it fair if I come and
Alter you again?
Or should I just allow you to
Continue in your new forms,
dried in the wake of my
wet chaos?
–
but perhaps the plants like the rain.
Lauren Dixon 