Drips turn to torrents,
drops turn to puddles
that run down the sidewalk
pulled down by unrelenting gravity,
raging through the drains
and into the darkness.
But before the drips
take the form of tears
dragged to the lowest point,
the rain dances.
Wind draws the drops
from their downward paths.
For a moment,
the beads of water hang there,
drifting over the world.
They are destined to fall –
suspended, silent;
but only for a moment.
