To watch the shower move down
the length of the street, and continue,
made me aware the gift given to me
was stepping outside just then to witness
the rain darkening the asphalt, to observe
the line between wet and dry diminish
until the rain reached me, and in its wake,
to inhale the olfactory stimulant
of ionized air. That such a natural event
inspires a child’s laughter and distinguishes
itself as a perfect oxymoron, is
testimony to its definition, especially after
I return inside, to savor prismed raindrops
beading the lenses of my glasses.
