That last drop of rain,
What was it thinking,
When it slid down,
The thin blade of the fanning leaf,
Hanging on for a moment,
Before the ultimate fall..
Did the drop know,
It was the finale of a massive cascade?
Did the drop know,
It will have no retinues?
Did the drop know,
It is giving way to a clearer sky?
Somehow,
I want that tiny piece of water,
To know its fate,
And its nonexistent wake,
It makes a difference,
When I know that it knows..
That final diaphanous globe,
Sparkling from the already rising sun,
As it loosens the grasp,
From my eye lash,
And descends…