Window Panes

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What does one get
Waiting, arms stretched wide
For raindrops
The clouds are not in the sky
The clouds aren't there at all.
The arms remain, the palms hope.
What is hope, then
Is it any different
From creating clouds?
More rain.
But
Never did rain harm
Rain just knew one thing
It had to fall, so
It fell, knowing not whom upon
Or where, road or marshland
Wanted or unwanted
It fell, not knowing what it did
It knocked on doors, formed tributaries
On window panes
Extinguished thirst, inspired poetry
Destroyed oil lamps, facilitated growth
And then
It submitted itself with old friends
Puddle of joy and mirth
With an open invitation
To feet and boats. 

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