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©Carolyn Davison

Tuesday, 8 October 2013

Raindrop

As desperate as a person clinging to the edge of a precipice,
The raindrop clings to a blade of grass,
Because to fall would bring it to its ultimate destruction,
Smashing it into many fragments on the ground.
Facets of colour dance through its transparent skin,
Like a troop of floating leaves pirouetting in the wind,
Spinning around and around on the breath of nature. 

As a drowning man clings to his last breath
So clings this transient droplet of water;
As if the world would end if it fell into an eternal grave.
The clouds part for the opening scene of the natural drama
The sun, like a lead actor shines its glorious light 
Through the raindrop.
Piercing the sky, an arc of colour bursts forth
Pure and radiant. 
The glory of nature being played out on the terrestrial stage.
The wonder of creation, hanging like a portrait
Among the clouds and sun rays.  


© Carolyn Davison 8th October 2013
 
I wrote this poem, sitting in my car! It was raining outside!


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