A Promise

Rain falls,

pelting me from every angle.

I do not run,

I do not hide.

Lifting my face toward the sky,

I close my eyes,

letting the water seep over me.

A smile forms,

triumph.

Slowly, I bend my head down

opening my eyes.

In the distance

a tree bud sways in the wind,

a promise of things to come.

 

Bridgett Lyall

4-13-09