Raindrop

“After-comers cannot guess the beauty been.” Binsey Poplars, Gerard Manley-Hopkins SJ, 1879

the emptiness of moonlight
strikes me dumb
shadows flicker like an old film
cats eerily call, each to each,
yowl, strike a pose, a poise
frozen, fur mantled by shadow;
so much idiosyncratic beauty given to us –
see the clouds scoop across the face
of the moon as the night-sky speeds by

rain blows into the empty air
water running into my face, down my back,
I was 16 yesterday, I deliver groceries to rich people,
rain soaks the bushes, the cats
hide, rain eases away,

the sky rumbles
a storm approaches,

I notice
moonlight reflected
in a single raindrop

I am drawn into open spaces
to worship
with those magnificently primitive people
who knew the motions of the moon and stars
who venerated mother nature as a holy creation
who cried and laughed, kissed and died,
beneath this same…