a chair with no back 
black and white paint flicks all over it 
it’s pulled to the threshold of a spring rain 
where I was perched
at that tiny door under the house 
I am mesmerized  
I am tranquil 
I am frozen 
in awe 
in comfort 
in curiosity  
as the small rain rivers push down our little lane
carving its fight 
water from the sky stretching and stretching for something bigger 
to the ocean that’s only a small way from our hamlet home perhaps
there’s a seagull struggling in the wind, I hope he makes it 
I think about birds for a moment and gales
until buoys pull me away out there drowning over and over in the storm swells
boats rocked in all the wrong directions
kelp flaps clinging to moorings who never wanted them in the first place 
then I catch a race 
a bottle cap leads a fallen leaf 
both carried along the curbside down the road  
passing gravel traps and grass hazards 
the cheers in my head grow loud as rain poured like applause 
thunder even showed and lighting had to come too 
to see this race and how small it was 
a spectacle on a grand scale to me
the only fan of something worth an encore  
it was then the rain stopped as the bottle cap did  
by the fallen leaf 
both stalled by the grate covered in debris 
drifting and dancing together like memories do