This garden of thought

The rain is falling outside

and I am in simpatico with the rain:

not sad, not filled with joy, just 

still and listening to my thoughts as

drops of rain fall and splash

on my roof in constant stream. 


I look out my window into the garden

at the wet grass that now radiates

its full green and the birds pick at the

soil between looking for a meal;

and I am here with the rain and playing 

in the Garden of my own thoughts. 


The rain stops but the greyness remains

and I move into the day and to the new

stream of life that unfolds, and I put 

my thoughts away for now as the birds

twitter in display and I attend to life,

but return to this Garden of thought I will.