By Katherine Baker


The road glosses over as if of glass,

which shivers when the raindrops pass,

making red and green dance

from traffic lights in stance,

hypnotic, on the river-road ahead.

Through the world, a gentle gray has bled.


The world is slivered through the car windows;

tiny streaks form as the passing wind blows.

They run back to the wind as the car speeds on,

not caring how far they will be flung.


Within minutes the world has changed

from heat-bleached roads and wilting terrain

to raging black rivers and swamp-like moors,

all while the rain reshapes the picture more

with thousands of tiny bubbles—grand,

masterful strokes on every surface land.

The world is rippled, and now I know

the rain turns my eyes into ponds also.


I slow down to see the commotion,

and the raindrops dance in slow motion,

falling by the billions from the sky,

not knowing where they go or why,

but washing the world in soft gray anyway.


Stopping now, I can’t resist the urge.

The car is opened, and here comes the surge.

The rain now kisses me on and on.

Soft thuds of rain pummel me as I dart along

to the next dryish concrete island,

laughing as loud as I can.

The wind joins in the jest,

pelting my glasses until blessed

with a waving mosaic of raindrops.

I’m half blind but won’t stop.

The joy I feel is as clear

as the dancing raindrops here.


I hear a grumble from a passerby.

The thunder imitates his voice (or tries).

“Another dreary day!” he mourns

while I still beg for more.


If one will take the time to look,

gray skies are simply joy mistook.

For rain comes to bless the trees,

and then the trees in turn bless me.

Dark clouds are just joy another way,

and overall we all need another “dreary day.”


So, I will try to see

the beauty in front of me.

The thunder laughs, not roars;

the rivers quench, not asking for more.

Each drop does not distort my sight,

but magnifies details put in life

that God wants us to see another way.

He gives raindrop eyes on special days

where the gray-washed landscape stews,

and then is made anew.

A place where roads gloss over like glass,

and green and red lights twist and dance

on black river-roads passed by

through my raindrop eyes.


Katherine Baker loves to express the many thoughts and emotions she feels each day in the form of art. From music to poetry to stories to (depressingly amateur) drawing, she is always bubbling with an overflow of God-given imagination that she desires to share with everyone she meets. An overambitious free-spirit, she is always juggling her big ideas and her busy life. She will profess that every good thing she creates is not her own, but only possible through the finished work of her Savior, Jesus Christ.

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