When the water hits the tips
of my suede boots, speckling
them with unwanted rain,
damaging their seams, their soft,
with storm, I smile.
I life my face to falling heaven
and laugh.

Who will ride through storm
thinking to suffer not
will wear a flinching fear
for person and possession.
Who will wade through water
holding high the precious things,
lifting above the stream the dear things,
knows not how to love them.

He loves who holds amidst the suffer,
who hand-in-hand allows
both comfort and decay to come.
He loves who worries not,
nor fears, but smiling at the gorgeous Good,
lets fall upon the smallest of concerns
the great unconcern of Nature.
Even so far loving life,
laughs slightly, though with pity
and with pain,
when the great Race of Man
hits heavy, beats and falls upon the body
or the heart.

Yes, even so will I,
though small and weak of frame,
with much or slight to lose,
wear wide upon my heart
the happiness of rain.

(written in Edinburgh, after being caught in a storm - February 10, 2006)

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