Rain splinters into moisture
As moths in the twilight
Wings beating
Eagerly for attention
I feel their flutters on my face
As catapulting droplets
And my warmth evaporates
Their strength
Their movements soon
Fleeting as one two
Then more escape judgment
Reality is oblivion yet
Not the end of one’s journey.
© Richard L. Provencher
Website: www.wsprog.com/rp/
