the rain comes in a drizzle
soft—frayed—a lace-like dew of grey
in the feathery flowers
drops of water shine
there is no sun but the soft wetness
comforts my ballooning emotions
spiraling sailing bounding
my voice lost in the rain an echo-less muffle
my way a vision in a dream from long ago
I could lose myself in this photograph.
And in the rain.
Thank you David!