UNTITLED

Cold raindrops
Splash endlessly on his newly shaven head
As he walks

Wearing his nylon jacket for the first time this year

The rain is cold
It's refreshing

The first worm of spring
Squirms and crawls on the sidewalk
Waiting unaware for the first robin
To come along and snatch his first meal

The wind whips his hood against his face
It's cold
It's liberating

His boots
Their tread long since worn away
Slip on the wet grass
Lying flat under the weight of the snow that has just melted
Grass weary not to stand up too soon
Only to be flattened again

The solemn song
The lonesome song
Plays in his head

But he feels not sorrow nor loneliness

Alone but not lonely

At peace
With something not yet understood
At ease
With things beyond his control

Finding truth in the ambiguity
Finding a truth of his own

An individualized experience
Individual eyes experience differently

Honest to all but themselves