From the moisture
Came dewdrops
From their union
Come rivulets
That bubble and run down the hills
They chase each other
Seeking to muster
The position of first
And in their quest they collide
Some coalesce
Forming a force more formidable
A river
That rumbles and rages across the plains
Slicing the valley
Peeling off the land
Bursting at seams of the river's bank
It lacks reprimand
Pays no attention
To where they say
To go it can't
It goes
A due diligence of when to go through or over or under or round
And a patience to sit smug and wait a new turn
I blow moisture on my window's glass
To clear stains off my lovely view of the dewdrops on the grass
Be patient you little drops
Your time will come to be great
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  1. Replies
    1. Everything starts small and grows as the seed of the mustard tree. Stay on this blog more will come your way