In absence of light I tried
counting raindrops,
losing tally at three thousand, two
hundred and thirty-seven, or
forty
or so.
I was not counting them all; only
the loudest, the ones
I thought hurt the most.
The others, I am convinced
there were many, fell
silently, normally,
naturally.
Gravity.
I tire of counting.
Why
do we keep track
of things
that cause
pain?
© 2014 j.g. lewis
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