There is that desire
a described inspiration
perhaps we cannot identify
we only believe she
a sweet moonlight,
or perhaps a simple gesture
a muse is born
we might go forward without knowledge,
yet lessons learned,
when the least necessary affirmation
becomes our powerful
perhaps a memory,
a fond recall of a pretty woman,
just the thought,
her moment when in that instance,
she smiled a thousand years,
and for a time she was your own gift.
For our gifts are that which we cannot endure,
yet we might for the lesson of humility
rely upon the muse.
the rains fall
covering naked skin
wet, nourishing, cleansing
light taps on window sills
asking to be felt by fingertips
tracing their moisture in rivers.
If we don’t feel the water
there is no purpose to the storm.
Our hearts can easily break
in free moments
when we decide to leave
our shelter behind …
truly weather the storm
that turbulence that causes any Man
human with real reaction
to reflect in glance
imagery in soft puddles that remain
as memory to recall
actions in prior travels.
Remember when mom said
‘where your rain gear’
and you did
but only because it looked good.
Who will decide when the rains fall
how the sky might shatter our world.