Water Drops
Such a lovely morning on my porch Saturday.
This week I’m just sharing some of what I experienced.
Water Drops
The ones that hang on the ends of leaves
Motionless. Present. Ripe with being real.
Left by a nighttime rain
now waiting for sun
to change everything.
Such water drops
seduce painters — writers — thinkers
to respond. To transform them
into some human-created artifact
that will capture their light
their translucent fullness
because we just cannot help ourselves.
I could just look at them. As I am.
Holding their morning magic inside me.
I could taste them. As I just did.
Feeling the liquid on my tongue
as a bird might.
An old woman I knew
inside the house after a hurricane passed
found a space in plywood-covered windows
to look out at last.
Leaves on the fence were covered in water drops.
Sun illuminating them.
“Oh my. Look at that. Somebody
has put diamonds all over the fence.”
A clear-eyed response
from one who had lost her connections
to what in the world was real.
For all the artmakers: Happy creating
For all the art lovers: Happy appreciating
Thank you for reading. I always enjoy questions and comments.
--Bobbi
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