A Poem a Day (559): Rainshine

 
Rainshine
 
Seeds into flowers
with just a little water.
Distances erase in seconds,
idle sketches
on the telephone.
 
In the wild rain
we run our hands,
drifting, prints collecting,
imagining worlds in these pools
of fragmented prisms.
 
Colours only dreamed of
streak the sky in speaking
while words slide on pages,
and we climb rung upon rung
of our own making.
 
Snuck into the leaves of trees
we whisper our imaginations,
the things we hold most dear,
remembering crystal marbles
bouncing in the gutters.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, February 25, 2023