Rivulet

Spring rainfall and your eyes
trace once again the route

the water follows descending
your window. The pathway

is opaque, microscopic grains
of glass signposting a detour,

a scenic route. Genuinely
you feel a trace of excitement

as the small river flashes
faster — the decisiveness

you always find mesmerizing.
Last night the storm burst

a pane of your sleek office
into gleaming splinters.

Could you imagine a stream
of meaning sufficient to heal it?