A few stray raindrops,
 
scarcely umbrella-worthy,
 
splash on my bare head.

 
 
 

Long after midnight
 
I keep counting the raindrops
 
hitting the porch roof.

Bowl

 
 
 

on the stone doorstep
 
a beggar’s worn wooden bowl
 
filling with raindrops

Leaf

 
 
 

still cradling raindrops
 
from the afternoon downpour—
 
one red maple leaf

Raindrops

 
 
 

three raindrops—count them!—
 
just enough to tantalize
 
my wilting squash vines

Raindrops

 
 
 

On a dusty way
 
grains of sand become raindrops—
 
pilgrims fill their cups.

Storm

 
 
 

caught in fall’s first storm
 
so much joy from the raindrops
 
pummeling my face