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Splatter

Image by dagakla on Pixabay; Written by Meghna Majumdar


Rain splatters. 
Splosh. Splish. Sploosh.

A single drop
hits a rock,
erupts on impact.


The rock itself
is a calm little thing,

it sits leaning
against the bank
of a little stream.

There’s grass by its back
and gurgling water at its feet
—
it must be happy,
dipping its toes
in a brook
forever.

It looks at the drop
that erupted
—
into droplets.

Some of them giggle madly
on blades of grass,
still high off the thrill
of falling
through dizzying heights
at phenomenal speed
and coming apart
at the crash-land.


Others have floated away,
joining their
happily gurgling kin
in the stream.

Boy do they have stories to tell.

A few stay put on the rock
—
for now. 
They’re the kind
who like some calm
after a rush. 

They’ll take their time,
then quietly slide
this way and that. 

Some will join the grass party,
others the stream. 

A few will plonk down
into the slight strip
of muddy earth
around this rock. 
They will sink deep and go to sleep.

The rock
watches them all
for a while, 
and then 

returns to its nap. 

(Written on May 14, 2022)

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