Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head

Slipping out the back door
onto the greying wooden deck;
watchful,
cautious,
feeling just a bit wanton,
she lets the towel fall to her feet
and stands
naked
as the rain storms around and upon her.

"This is freedom", she thinks;
even though it comes with 18 years left on the mortgage
and the fear (she can't seem to shake)
of getting struck by lightening.

She is free,
in this moment,
watching the rain slide along her full breasts
cascading off her erect nipples-
she imagines molecular-sized men
on a water slide,
hands in the air
having the ride of their lives.

Taking in the sounds
of water;
whole ponds traveling through the roof's gutters and
gushing onto the ground,
she is awed by the beauty of green tree tops
against such a black-grey sky.

In direct contradiction to her surroundings
she becomes sun salutation;
all her jiggly parts jiggle mightily
but
she does not care;
there are no witnesses to her body's glory and,
if some peeper should insert his gaze into her frolic
she hopes he is made happy.
He deserves it;
as he flatters her middle-aged mind.

Her left leg slides forward
as she prepares to exit the pose
and, within a fraction of a second,
her mind registers the beam of wood
that has inserted itself into her foot.

Hopping back into the kitchen
hoping there isn't a river of blood and water
trailing across the floor,
she plops onto the nearest chair
and, realizes,
then and there,
an ultimate truth;

Nothing is free.
Not even freedom.
And she smiles.

Having just explained that much of my recent poetry is not inspired by my Life, I offer this actual Life snippet to you. We had the most wonderful rain on Sunday and I took advantage of being home alone...