What Won't Wait?

November Poem a Day Challenge: Day 7


Everything learns to wait:

The soil waits long weeks,

sometimes months even in

this capricious climate for

the salubrious soak & then

there is the waiting for the

torrent to stop stealing the

once bone dry soil now aslide.

We can plan for or against it,

but eventually the drought

must come & eventually

it must end. What is between

is what every animal knows:

who learns to wait learns

the secret of patience,

of fortitude, of survival.

I wonder about the family of

raccoons that lives near us,

perhaps some spend this rainy

Fall evening under our back stoop,

the little ones have grown now

I’m sure, perhaps moved out

& on their own, waiting for

late Winter to allow them

their first chance at making new.

Tonight, whatever solitary hole

each hides in must feel  miles

away from home as the soil

soaks up every ounce of cold,

 cold rain covering the known,

familiar scent of rubbage,

& recommending something

as awkward as night-sleep.

Even the three year old boy

who wrestles every second

out of life stumbles eventually

to bed, eyes wide open if only

for a last few minutes before

sleep finally overwhelms his

tired body, well-used, bruised,

in dire need of  slumber. It must

be the quiet racket of rain against

the windows, the slow beat upon

the roof & the hum of a distant

television that does the trick,

ends the wait & draws his great

big blue eyes finally to close.