Raindrops Between

by Brian Desmond Morris

Those fleeting crystal shards of cloud
fill the evening air with falling.
Hesitation.
They cling to edges everywhere
–from leaf-tips to drainpipes.

The first and final inhalation
is taken within their entire being
(as a breath should be taken.)
-A breath of borrowed light: rays and particles
condensed and consumed by these temporal transparencies,
as though all that is light becomes them,
and in the briefness of a living moment,
-caught between two collectives:
clouds and curbside rivers,
facing the reality of their own natural descent,
they exist in an instance
according to their own individual resplendence.

-For what reason, there is no time to ask.
Since, soon they are fallen,
and returned to the omnium-gatherum
that pervades all sides of decipherable existence,
like the abysmal blankness throughout
the current page.