Rain drips from the dark sky
Like God is dropping inky pennies on the earth.
Little packages of life splatter,
Clatter,
Like horses hooves
Across the veranda of Jenny\'s old house.
The water surges down
C-r-e-a-k-y
Old drain pipes.
Bulging out the sides of
The gutter; Bursting at the seams.
And with a Drip.
And a Drop.
The rain squirms its way
Into jenny\'s home.
One drop falls from the ceiling.
Patters Jenny\'s grey, grizzly mop Of a head.
The drops increase, speeding up.
For a moment everything is
Still...
Then one droplet cascades down
With silent finality.
The drop catches the spectrum.
Projecting:
Scarlet
Vermilion
Saffron
Verdigris
Aquamarine
Ultramarine
Lavender
They\'re just Names in a story of science.
But names Can be pseudonyms.
Jenny sighs into her coffee.
For thirty years she had retreated,
To this place
She\'d inherited from her mother.
It was nowhere,
It wasn\'t even on a map.
She remembered
Her childhood, she
Always wished people
Would just leave her alone.
They didn\'t understand.
They didn\'t know,
What it was like.
To see your only friend
Leave you behind.
She realized solitude is not great.
It drives cracks in your conscience.
Until only loneliness and
Bitterness are left.
Abstract,
That is what you become.
The spectrum nodded its head in understanding.
It had so many siblings.
But never referred to as an individual.
Unique.
Always collective
Always
Oh it\'s the rain.
A baby faced sun, peeks over the
Horizon
Spreading streaks of golden light.
At Jenny\'s farm:
No longer rain drips from the sky,
Like God Has run out of cash,
No more little packages of life,
Splatter.
The clattering like horses hooves
Across the veranda of Jenny\'s old house
Has ceased...
And the spectrum is silent in its solitude.