Rain-filled Rut in the Road
I see the bare skeletons of trees
reflected on the smooth surface
of the puddle, gently caressed
into ripples by the passing breeze.
It is a lovely puddle, not visited
by many, save a thirsty robin
or sparrow. It resides
amongst crumbling asphalt,
revealing the old brick road
below.
As the sun warms and the days
pass, this puddle will go, leaving
behind nothing except the rut
in the road that it chose to
reside in.
I will miss this puddle; its quiet
presence was peaceful and friendly.
No one will remember this puddle
or its reminder of the storm that
left it. Even I will forget that it
reposed humbly in the gutter full
of sand and mud.
But the trees will remember its
mirror of their long bony limbs, left
bare by winter. Reminding them of
their own perennial mortality and
the promise of spring.
written by Ben Brick
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
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