Time Is Rain
Wave your fronds up high and bake
in the beating sunlight’s wake,
frothed by gales of frenzied trades
on the liquid branches’ blades,
shake your lazy head and weep
at the sudden shower’s deep,
stormlit hands on backlit black,
draining on the metal shack
as we nestle in the night’s thick clock
pounding on the bobbing dock,
ticking on the window pane,
as now’s the time, and time is rain.
May 4th, 2017
March 26th, 2022
Explanation
When I’m writing, time expands around me, rather than closing in. I’m not in search of lost time, but rather time pools at my feet like rain.
This was written during a few minutes on a sunny tropic afternoon in Kailua that turned into a squall.