Rebel Droplet

One drop of rain in the pack
Looks much the same as its fellows, 
But let’s pretend
This one is special.
(It is, in fact.)

This rebel droplet
Agonized for a long time,
Cast its watery eyes around,
Took in its childhood bedroom:
Posters of boy-bands on cloud-walls
Sweetened a difficult life.
Droplet had to let go in order to fly. 

Watch as she knifes the air,
Such a graceful blade,
A painful pelt against cheek
Raising red
In protest.
The battle will never be won,
Just paused for a while,
And so should we rest. 

Droplet turns in the air,
Unfettered at last,
So warm in the light. 

The thin nerve sneaking through
Is trigeminal, far-reaching, terse.
Lone raindrops cannot read stop signs,
But they understand symbolism,
So they do just fine.
They find a safe place to sleep at night. 

Droplet’s boundaries extend in all directions;
Oasis, so bursting, is contained.
(At least, in its own way.)
It can be found,
Easily,
When navigating
By the sweeter rain’s compass. 
We drink deeply
Only when we find careful friends
To be shoulder-to-shoulder among.

Let the water mellow as the river distends.
A curling poster, tacked up high
On the notice board, attests:
A springtime deluge is precious,
But also precarious.
Mind the ice floes as they stroll past:
They wish to be water,
But their chill will last.

Droplet attempts a home,
Flexes her muscles with grace,
Creates a softening place
Each city she goes.
Hustle with care:
A record, once broken,
Can never again be made whole.