Rainy Day.


Rain whispers through the trees

polishing each glistening leaf

casting a light veil

across all imperfection,

falling upon the palms of

thirsting grass, where

every bloom has raised its face

to catch each perfect drop.



© sweetwater 2023
UKA Editor's Pick!
Views: 939
critique and comments welcome.
Notify of
Inline Feedbacks
View all comments

where’s the imperfection, I thought, in all this… even a leaf is perfect in its own unique way, then, I thought, it could be something else that makes everything imperfect, the observer.

very good poem, thanks for sharing

Flag Content