Thirteen ways of looking at a raindrop
(with apologies to Wallace Stevens)

I
Amid eight dewy mountains
The only shimmering thing
Was the sparkle of a raindrop

II
I was of nine minds
Like a branch
Upon which there are nine raindrops

III
The raindrop glistened in the November air
It was the tiniest player in the morning show

IV
A man, a woman and three dogs
Are one.
A man, a woman, three dogs and a raindrop
Are one.

V
I know which I prefer
The magic of reflections
Over the dullness of dry stump
The raindrop glinting
In this moment

VI
Purple branches stretched across the sky
From brown and dead grass
The sparkle of the raindrop
Bounced them, to and fro.
The breath
Caught in the sparkle
An incandescent hope.

VII
O laughing girls of Squam,
Can you not see the golden light?
Do you not see how the raindrop
Drips down to your feet
In a shining puddle, like the men about you?

VIII
I know sounds of beauty
And clear, immutable truths;
But I know, too,
That the raindrop runs through
All that I know.

IX
When the raindrop fell to the earth,
It disappeared
And joined with the ever widening circle.

X
At the sight of the raindrops
Flashing in white light,
Even Sisyphus
Would smile sweetly.

XI
She walked over New Hampshire
In ruby slippers.
Once, a cold sweat rolled down her back
In that she mistook
the branch's twinkling lights
For icicles.

XII
The wind is picking up
The raindrops are wobbling.

XIII
It was morning all day long.
It was misty
And it was going to rain.
The raindrop sat
On the rosewood branch.

Bisous, E

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