as this impulsive
outburst from tree leaves
patters into the pond surface,
imposes dark dots on bone pavement
and spritzes peoples' hair,
there's no need to panic

no need
to rush for cover
umbrellas, yellow slickers
or to close down the windows
bring in the lawn chairs,

there won't be a deluge

look at the sky
not even a sun shower.

It's just the wind's reminder
of last night's rain.

The past's sins or missed gambles
along with failed dreams
obtrude into the foreground
in scraps of secrets
revealed in others’ words and voices,
even our own,
or poke their cornered pages
out from within locked boxes
buried deep down in hope chests,
threatening to make an encore of risks
and resume centre stage.
Though yellowed and stripped down
they're still potent with harm.

But no need for panic,
no call for a shake up
or a rush to conclusions
by the discoverers.

Look up high
for the answer,

trust that it’s merely
old rain.

06/15/2004