When I went outside

Maple leaves,
thick textured clumps on dark boughs,
bathed in sunlight
blew
and suddenly looking up, my face was wet,
surprised.

And then I knew
the trees were raining.

Warm shirt sleeve, arm reaching for
Forehead, eyes, cheeks.
Again and again, drips dropping.

There hadn’t been any air to breath
all day.

The blue sky still somehow
boomed in the distance,
weather traveling,
as quickly as it had come.
And looking down at my feet, I
was left with this.

Breath.
The cast shadows of trees
bright cement,
making light dark light dark light dark
lines on the sidewalk.
What was chirping?
Cool air and blue sky.
Wet grass on ankles.
Grace.

©Kathleen Moors 2011