All that dry space between the raindrops

in the icy waters tumbling

          actually dancing in that shining spume

in the blowing hoarfrost crystals ignited by the wintry sun

          beckoning through their many prisms

part of the gentle sounds of spring creeks flowing

          splashing about upon their rocky floors

souls of patterns seen in far-off clouds

          also glinting from mosses, green upon the stones

neither evil spirit nor mythic god

igniting any reason for their invention

glimpsed while considering galactic clusters

          filling probabilistic emptiness within the atoms

inside the sound of wind and rain

glowing golden in the lion’s eye

neither possessed of emotion nor conscious intellect

          touching yet deeply and yielding wisdom

in the colors of the birds and the fish of the oceans

shining from her eyes without her even knowing

deeply moving yet quite untouched

          without a will but quietly consistent

unaware of the pulsing life force

          but part of the larger cosmic evolution

all that dry space between the raindrops

          mysterious force that builds up rivers

sense that makes the oceans restless

          unnecessary beauty of the morning

answer to all the orphan’s questions

          nameless void from which life briefly sparks

beautiful patterns left without any explanation

          tracings there as if something passed

things we finally learn we should have always searched for

          mystical back-drop, mute to all our wasted folly

what the children are afraid of

          why the old ones have no fear at last

riddle of the victim’s expression

          blur of twenty years sensed in a single instant

revealed in the short lives of crushed dragon flies

          meditated upon near one huge, decaying stump

on the golden line of sun reflected in a breaking swell

          of the snapping and the popping of our campfire burning

feeding the feeling arising when making music

          grateful use of ideas that arise unbidden

joy we take as children play with puppies

why we cook and sew, safe and warm at home

neither in the snow nor of the coldest winter

          sensed by the wolf and he begins to howl

all these tiny life forms dancing, fully animated within but a raindrop world