Rainy Reflections

Not everything is a poem, 

yet the words come, not from my mind,

but from the way the mist-hidden trees peer through 

the first real autumn rain, after a too-hot summer.

They come from the young mom rushing her child

to school, both in their shiny rain slickers,

hauled out from the closet under the stairs

this very morning, the frantic scramble for

rubber boots, and the way

the last blooms of summer are falling now,

their leaves crinkling up and turning orange.

Not everything is a poem,

but this morning the man from the rescue

will come to pick up my donation,

which will help the dog I love there, 

who has been living in the shelter
for more than a year,

waiting for his forever home to find him.

Not everything is a poem,

but what is this sadness rising inside me,

though life is peaceful and good

and I have everything I need?

Maybe it is just from living in a world

of people, with their anger, their lashing out,

their bombs that bring no peace,

who do not understand that we are all

meant to be equal in this world, and that

we need to come together if we are ever going to

save this planet, the other beings we share it with,

and each other. Maybe that is the poem.

For certain, it is the sadness.

Earth grief, that we
haven't got it right.

This poem was inspired by the poem "Not Everything Is a Poem" by Maggie Smith. The italicized lines are hers.