Rain

 

Splat, drip, plunk, sploosh

raindrops careen hard into car's glass

crashing almost, alien.

The arc of mechanical arms swinging side to side

sweeping droplets off the clear, curved surface.

Flattened ovals pulled like shooting stars

across the transparent galaxy, trailing off.

To see, we look beyond you to the space

between your liquid origin's existence

and beyond even the path of

your arrival.

Headlights

slicing

the

distance,

parsing

reality,

ever a digit, a beacon 

pointing towards the moon;

to where both the explosion of stars

and collision of raindrops

are but a bead

 in a wellspring

of unlimited potential

rippling forever

outward.