an ode to the pitter patter

rain is coming home from the train station
without an umbrella
and being soaked to my shoulders

is deciding to jump in puddles
as being dry isn't an option,

is the view from my desk
of grey clouds circling
office towers like halos,

is the warm bath when you're home,
the softening of toes

is the sound against the window pane
when I reflect on my life
and my land

what all this wet
and pitter patter means

great blessing
from up high
to grow
and start again.