I meditate on the quiet elegance of the cool breeze on this rainy day
while I drink spicy ginger tea.
I listen to the cacophonous symphony of raindrops
whose lineage stems back to the omnipresent sky
and the vast, eternal sea from which I was also born.
Across the street are empty lots, now inhabited by trees
that seem to reach for nourishment.
With a guttural demand, Zeus sends down the rain
and soon the street is a river,
my car an empty boat,
my roof an unrelenting waterfall
and my porch a small shore.
I remove my glasses that are at best redundant,
and descend the cement steps.
My blurry vision reminds me of a soft focus photograph,
immortalized and forever slightly out of focus.
But I can still see lightning strike
as my grandma speeds by in her blue car, honking the horn.
I jump into a large puddle
The earthy, metallic smell, petrichor, proves intoxicating as eager mud
wedges itself between my toes, adapting and changing form.
Rain falls into my eyes like
tenacious raindrops on a windshield
covered in permanent smudge marks.
The large, haunting trees across the street
remind me of the trees that surrounded our apartment in Georgia.
Tall, imposing things shaped like humans, the size of giants,
that would inspire fear and awe if they were
to rub the sleep from their eyes
and notice you.
I sometimes stare at those trees
and imagine what unknown creatures,
disgruntled by my exploration, would come crawling out.
I won’t take any chances today.
Instead I spin like a dervish.
Unsuccessfully, I admit.
But I’m sure Mother Nature will forgive
my clumsy attempt to impersonate Turkish monks.
Suddenly, I notice the faint smell of garlic bread as it passes through
the lousy screen of our front door.
Despite my ecstasy, mom’s spaghetti is becoming an increasingly
more tempting endeavor and now the thunder of Zeus
resides in my empty stomach.
I pray the rain continues throughout the night as I ascend the cement steps.
I put on my glasses, sight returned, and say a silent prayer:
When my candle burns out, my final goodbye a wisp of smoke,
grant me a sanctuary that exceeds the dreams of every solitary pluviophile.
Give me a library, vast and infinite.
Rainy days, surrounded by warm blankets and kitchen shelves filled
with every flavor of tea you can find.
Surround me with friends who will hold me close everyday
and an ocean of mermaids who will teach me every song they know.
And, oh yeah! Mom’s spaghetti, too!
Give me this, and I promise that when I have learned my final lesson
on this three-dimensional plane,
and you extend your hand to me in the coming dawn,
I will go willingly.