Perspective

The rain falls, creating a thin veil.
It clouds my vision,
Making me unsure of what lies before me.
Making my hands and feet grow numb with cold
Until I open my umbrella.

 

Two ducks sit on a dock.
One looks at the other.
The other stares into the icy water.
They are like two children wondering if they should jump.
Hoping the other will go first.

 

A drainpipe shoots water from the side of a hill.
Perhaps it thinks it is a waterfall.
Dangerous, even fatal
To a beetle,
Or a forgotten lego-man.

 

A hill rises before me.
It rises and rises, nearly touching the sky.
I climb to the top
Hoping to touch a passing cloud.
Sometimes I think I can.

 

Now the soft, slow rain changes
Into hard, fast sleet.
It makes music on my umbrella
As it falls all around me,
But never touches my skin.

 

By Nicole Bates.

This entry was posted in Nature Rhymes, Poems. Bookmark the permalink.

I would love to hear from you!