Rainwalking 

He walked without hurrying.
Hands in his pockets, hood up.
The rain falling steadily now,
dripping from the hem of his coat.
It wasn’t much of a night for walking,
but he walked anyway.

His toe caught the edge of a puddle.
Not deep, but wide enough to stop him.
The kind of thing you’d step around,
if you were paying attention.
But he didn’t.

He stood there,
watching the surface.
Raindrops splashing, 
one after the other.
Ripples rolled out, circles, 
colliding and breaking apart.
Perfect for a second,
then gone.

He thought about that.
How things come together,
then don’t.
How the world keeps moving,
even when it’s quiet.

The rain kept falling. 
The puddle kept shifting.
He could’ve stayed there longer,
but he didn’t.