let it go

The rain did not blow in
the way it often does.
It came straight down
in threads of silver barely visible
against the backdrop of trees.
But I can hear the gentle wash of it
like a stream running over rocks.
It matches my mood—
serene, soft, pensive,
at the shallow end of sadness.
A nuthatch flits from the feeder,
skims across the roof of the garage,
disappears into dark green undergrowth.
My cat is antsy, pacing.
It’s not a day to go out,
which bothers the cat
but suits me just fine.
A breeze drifts through open windows,
and thoughts of other places,
other times
that once stormed through my memory
now shower slowly down with the rain.
My heart is full and grateful—
grateful for the past,
grateful that it’s long gone,
grateful that I can gladly let it go.
A lazy rumble of thunder rolls in.
The cat runs,
but this deepest growl of the clouds,
this sharpest bite,
fades to silence
along with those deepest, sharpest memories.
I close my eyes,
lean back and listen
to the chorus of hopeful birdsong
that circles through
the showering rain.
-kh-