Elizabeth G. Howard

—

I heard a drop of rain
On that rhododendron call to me:
You are alive.

This minute, and only this one.
You may grouse at yesterday or
Pine for tomorrow but only the
Perfume of now exists. You are
Alive in this one breath,
In the bend of light which
Turns this petal pink, alive
In the exact desperate push-pull
Which holds me onto this
Silken flesh, you are alive, the

Drop of rain on the
Rhododendron called out
To me.
—