This is a commentary on living, when the living is hard.

 

Invisible Rain

Dawn has come to smother the light

in my house.

As I douse the candle's flicker

its feeble flame shines at the window,

lifting the road beyond

into patterned pathways, glinting

in the early bright;

the soft rain of midnight's darkling succour

is almost gone.

 

It will return tomorrow, unbidden and invisible,

and I will greet its falling

with a morning smile

for its glib gift of balm.

Life is a traveller; I am

but a calm soul upon my journey.

 

Chris Hubbard

Vienna, Austria

2016