enter literary
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Nov. 2009: “Rain” won IBPC First Place for November 2009
Rain
You don’t pray for rain in mountains.
It comes and goes as if to home —
sometimes wandering in clouds,
other times running into rising streams.
The soil is forever soft.
Leaves unfold to hold each drop.
At the end of each cycle,
you always hear it singing
all the way home —
kissing leaves,
tapping trees.
Some drops stay longer on tall branches.
All of a sudden, a wind blows;
they let go —
a light shower
surprises you
sitting motionless under a phoenix tree.
from my book "Wings Toward Sunlight" (Mosaic Press 2011)
