Here is the second of the two poems I have done this summer on this theme. I have always been fascinated by the thought of what goes on when I’m not there to see it – the idea that everything has its own existence and all quite independent of me. Very freeing.
I mop up the water splattered on the floor.
Early morning. Still dark. Raining hard. Window open.
I hear the splatter of the drops
falling past the window
on to the hostas
in the yard below
I imagine the gentle shaking movements
of their huge leaves
in the dark. Unseen.
The rain falls. I leave the room.
The rain goes on falling
the leaves still moving to the tapping
of the steady stream of drops
in the early morning
in the dark.