After Rain

The sky is not yet clear,
But I’m already walking
The trees shake off
The last few raindrops,
They fall softly
Onto my stubborn stubble,
Soothing it,
Dissolving it.
My imagination wakes up
And stretches after a long rest,
The raindrops, like
Chords and progressions of Nature,
Plink against it,
And it resonates;
I breathe in fresh, light air
Infused with the heady smell
Of wet asphalt. My steps
Lead me down roads that seem
Familiar, but lose themselves
In labyrinths, like childhood;
How will I find my way back?
It is an open question
That’s best left as an exercise
(to the reader? To future me?
To someone who will find me?)
For now there are trees
And pale-grey sky, lightening,
And wet raindrops.
It’s enough, for now.