This umbrella tires of holding up the rain
Her water proof nylon grown thin, ribs
Starting to bend to the wind. A tired
Whisper: “let the rain drench you.”
Wind blown sideways, like the sky
Asking for directions, falling
To earth looking for suture to heal
Us: our stars and their stories.

This umbrella tires of holding up the rain.
It beseeches me to close it and look up
At the patterns raindrops make falling
Like a web of stars torn apart,
Looking for a new storyteller
To mix the tonic God pours down on us.
“Wrap your arms around me,” she says,
“Let the story fall on its own.”

Umbrella, I tire of holding back rain.
Open me up and let me catch it.
This mystery falling I can no longer solve,
So choose, instead, to break the patterns
Allowing the water to resolve its story
In rivers tumbling…