Aftermath

Brief pelting downpour
Battered, spattered, pounded hard.
Plants stood up for more.

Nature’s not merely
Rapturous epiphanies
Stirring sincerely;

The fierce rain’s a friend
And forever a fierce one,
No need to pretend.

Now nasturtiums sway,
Cup their rolling silver drops
Every which way.

Frisky liquid slides
Across a wobble of green.
Imbalance abides.

We live askew, too,
Embracing such awkward grace,
Juggling me and you.

Chris O'Carroll

If you have any thoughts about this poem,  Chris O'Carroll   would like to hear them