Soft, tiny raindrops fall
to kiss my skin
and the whole earth
tingles,
like
I’d fallen asleep with my arms tucked in
and now they’re waking back up, like
birdsong on a rowdy day
reminding me the danger is gone, like
this peaceful prompting
from my waterproof self
that I am here
and listening.

This tiny rain
is so much more
than refreshing.


The reader brings his or her own experience to the poem and creates meaning. Here is my mine:

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