Find a quiet rain. Then a green spruce tree. You will notice that nearly every needle has been decorated with a tiny raindrop ornament. Look closely inside the drop and there you are. In color. Upside down. The raindrop has no instructions to flip us right-side up. People, dogs, muskrats, woods, and hill, whatever fits, heads down like quail from a hunter’s belt. Raindrops have been collecting snapshots since objects and people were placed, to their surprise, here and there on earth.
Raindrops are fickle, of course, willing to substitute one image for another without a thought as we pass by them. Our spot taken by a flash of lightening or a wet duck. Still, even if we are only on display for a moment in a water drop as it clings to a pine needle, it is expected that we be on our best behavior, hair combed, jacket buttoned, no vulgar language. Smiling is not necessary, but a pleasant attitude is helpful, and would be, I think, appreciated.
by Tom Hennen
From his extraordinarily beautiful, too-little known book, Darkness Sticks to Everything: Collected and New Poems (NYT review here)