Drop of Water

The droplet hangs a moment,
Collecting courage,
Mustering strength,
Preparing for its descent.

Hovering at the tip of the golden leaf,
It gathers itself together,
Ready to take the plunge,
Willing to engage what lays below.

The tension broken,
A sturdy platform left to dry alone,
Our swirling mass hangs but a moment longer,
Waiting for the earth to rise in response.

Slowly twisting through space,
Our sphere of molten humidity,
Unraveling a secret story,
Somersaulting a voiceless song.

It cannot fall forever,
This troupe of collected dews,
Despite the lethargic tumbling,
Soon must brace itself.

For that which lays below,
Will not be parted,
Can not be negotiated with,
Must stand true.

And with that thought,
In such a cataclysmic instant,
The droplet finds its mark,
Shape swiftly eradicated.

Striking the bridge of her nose,
Splashing in all directions,
Finding purchase upon her cheek,
The gallant unit is dispersed.

Its secret story quickly silenced,
With the flick of her wrist,
Our droplet wiped away,
Scattered to the wind once more.

5 thoughts on “Drop of Water

  1. Less like life and death than metamorphosis. … Who is she/her here ? Is it the earth mother or the dispersed lover ? What is ‘she’ that performs the transformations ? Well, aren’t I darned analytical for sunrise in the morning! Great poem. Have a wonderful new moon today. ~ Moira

    • The “her” in this poem, as I see it, is the passerby. She walks through the scene, unaware of the falling droplet, only to be splashed by it. The event lasts but a second for her, yet is monumental for the drop of water.

      But you may choose to see it differently. I like to leave my poems open ended so that the reader is able to create their own story.

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