She used to cry, for no particular reason, until
She learned to dance in the rain. They said
What were you doing, running out there like that?
She only answered proudly, because it is beautiful.
Soaked from head to toe, drenched dress clinging
To her wet body, she stood barefoot and wiggled her
Toes on the carpet, and smiled. She was free at last.
You could have been struck by lightning, they yelled.
What lightning? I didn’t see any lightning. Besides,
It wouldn’t have hit me; I’m too short. That maple
Tree on the edge of the yard is much taller, anyway.

The first time, it was shocking, but now
It’s just her regular ritual. When the first drops
Fall, she peers out the storm window on the
Kitchen door with that wild look in her eyes.
When the dust turns a darker shade, and the air
Smells like earth, she throws off her sandals
And out she goes. They tried to catch her
A few times, but she was too fast for them:

What a sight to see, dancing in the puddles,
Arms raised to the sky, and singing. Catching
dreams like raindrops in your mouth is worth
every risk. A little rain is not going to stop her.