the wind and rain clap their hands
in thunderous applause.
Droplets smash all around the house,
and for a moment, it’s as if
I’m being praised for something I did.
I think, “so much applause, I must
have done something brilliant or right.
Keep those joyous explosions coming.”
The rain is continuous, relentless
in its encores and ovations.
Certainly, making a poem
out of water is reason to cheer.
“Congratulations,” says the rain,
“because you are here,
a little damp, but still standing.”