The Divine Madness

The days bond over a heavy rain.

At first light, I stare at the citrus tree outside my

window, dark brown and saturated. Two grapefruit the

size of melons weigh upon the branch, pushing one

another toward the earth. I shut my eyes for a moment and

imagine myself as the space between them until I remember

the bit of bread I’ve left on the counter to go stale.

I put on yesterday’s clothes and notice the familiar

smell. Walking through the dining room I see myself obscured

in the faint gleam of hardwood. My umbrella leans against

a dim corner by the front door— its joints have begun

to rust from a lack of attention though it still repels water.

I lock the door on my way out and the first few drops

of rain tap hollowly on my canopy. The bread is coarse

under my arm and the world grey with dark clouds.

There is a lake a short walk away with trout and ducks

and large rocks I stood on as a boy. I stand along the bank

crumbling a bit of bread in my hand as a small brown

duck swims toward me bringing the whole lake with her.

The rain has been heavy for some days and the ground

is soft beneath me. Her small webbed feet

meet the ground and she walks toward me. I take

to one knee in the mud with my hand outstretched

and she takes the bread, nibbling politely at my skin.