Uncertainty. Doubt. Mystery.
Suspended there not needing
to know. Not scumbling after.

Undefined, unsheltered.
The rain splashing down,
not calling it anything.

Not asking why now
and not yesterday.
Tomorrow ‘s a bird

hidden in its nest.
Buried there. Not here
where you’re standing,

face lifted to the rain.
Whatever silver it is.
Whatever life it gives

or takes. In the boots
it ruins. Its needles
on your shoulders.

Watching it slide
down the gutters, sloop
through the grate,

beyond how it started
or when it will stop,
if it’s good or not.

Standing in your spot
on the sidewalk. Hands
held, palms up. Your body

a windy road.