rain

rain taps on my roof -gentle, tentative at first, then more insistant. i picture leaves washing from from tenuous treetop tendrils, carried by the heavy drops sliding across the slick shingles, ending their journey on the ground. is it the end of their journey though? from there, they will begin anew - a different form, becoming rich, loamy soil nourishing new seeds- urging them upward from sun-warmed ground after winter has tired of it's frozen filabuster and moved on. new trees will begin - searching for sunlight, bending and leaning to warm this side, then the other. basking. later, strong and true, buds burst open and delicate new green unfurls, decorating once-barren branches - a coming of age. rain will soak roots, thirsty for relief as summer's sun threatens to dry and crumble this new life. a delicate balance. adornment of strings and grasses form hollowed cups high in shielded branches - soon insistant calls of hunger & protest arise from them as hatchlings begin the cycle once again. night, held at arm's length too long, begins to creep forward a minute at a time. soon the rains, no longer warmed by long summer suns, will begin to cool and tap on my roof early morning. signaling an end and a beginning of a new cycle with each drop. a continuum. an unbroken circle.