Summer rain storm
Soaks me to the bone.

Lying on concrete all alone,
under the overpass,
Cars blowing by,
I know they laugh.

I understand why.

But what they don't realize,
is that I'm laughing too.

I wouldn't trade this life,
because, I know.

I may be wet,
but I'm freer than you.

Give me a highway, a lonesome stretch of gray.

(Thanks for the line Bob)

And I'll be alright,
I'll find my way.

And if it rains, let it pour,
Let it wash my cares away,

I won't complain,
I love the rain.

Besides,
I probably needed a bath anyway.

~For Lila and the others~

there exists
a subset of us,
those who
for whatever reason
do not write,
but “just” repost
other’s work

Above see the word
Just
emboldened
for this selfless task
is justice inherent

For this act of bringing others
to our over constrained attention is an
action of justice,
or more profoundly
doing away with
injustice  of
our human limitations

We could spend days entire
pursuing the works of others,
but life and the extraordinary demands
of writing anew, when the spirit is upon us,
are oft unable to spot, isolate, and
highlight
capture
the best of the rest,
and bless those
who reorient our eyes
away from our own bounded rivulets,
to the tried and truly,  away from
habitual familial familiar good stuff,
but bring us revelations of gems,
caught within the mass maskings of missives that grows hourly, exponentially to
out attention,
to reorient
our attention,
to their filtered selections

Let us say in unison then
a blessing of gratitude
to The Reposters:
*Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Ruler of the Universe, who has granted us life, sustained us, to give thanks to those who enable others, to reach us this season