Death of a Raindrop
A raindrop rolls silently down a big-bellied, hazel-rimmed leaf.
Slowly, carefully, it approaches the tip, a tip sloping down to a raindrop's doom.
Then,
off the tip it goes.
The leaf rises from the loss of its load,
as the raindrop takes quick passage to the lower world, cutting the air in two.
Falling, it glides by bark and branch and leaf,
Destined to meet its end in that final fatal collision.
But where will it land,
when a raindrop becomes mere wetness in the dirt?
A raindrop rolls silently down a big-bellied, hazel-rimmed leaf,
falls,
and lands on the rain-soaked skin of my upturned face.
Slowly, carefully, it approaches the tip, a tip sloping down to a raindrop's doom.
Then,
off the tip it goes.
The leaf rises from the loss of its load,
as the raindrop takes quick passage to the lower world, cutting the air in two.
Falling, it glides by bark and branch and leaf,
Destined to meet its end in that final fatal collision.
But where will it land,
when a raindrop becomes mere wetness in the dirt?
A raindrop rolls silently down a big-bellied, hazel-rimmed leaf,
falls,
and lands on the rain-soaked skin of my upturned face.
This poem is copyright (©) Sarah Gutzwiller 2024
About the Writer
Sarah Gutzwiller
Sarah writes fiction and non-fiction for children (poetry, picture books, chapter books, and middle grade). She is an eternal optimist and loves to write uplifting poetry and stories. For non-fiction, Sarah hopes to encourage kids to love STEM, especially biology! She has a PhD in Evolution, Ecology, and Organismal Biology. She is currently a stay-at-home mom for her two kids (7 and 4) and lives in Columbus, Ohio, USA.
