What Easy Loss

the rain breaks unevenly
over the prostrate earth

i watch the drops fall
and get caught like wriggling
fish in the warm glow of a
street lamp;

and from the drops, in their
singularity, i can imagine
the sea--
vast and borderless like the
Russian hinterland;

the foam sputtering spray,
the undulating crests,
the birth pangs from the creation
of the world;

i can unpackage the language
of the water whole
from just a few
jangling syllables;

it rains.
all of nature
is against me.

it is strong:
the ocean beating
against the tremulous land,

it is precise:
the curve of sun arc flame
sloping up the sky,

it is final:
the tragic dust that all lay down to;

--And yet,
there is the
faraway glimmer
of unquestioning love;

and so i,
rain-soaked,
laugh and
splash along
in the puddles.

we cannot win against
this world

but what easy loss
because there is love.