Droplets in free fall
spilling over the edge,
released from the pack, plunging
tear-shaped and suddenly isolated,
not in control at all.
No fear, no wondering,
no shame, no comparing,
just doing what’s being done,
only in that moment, thrilled
and completely present.
Hitting the surface
with panache, flair, flourish,
their performance noticed or not,
they don’t care, but with abandon,
they arabesque acrobatically anyway.
They bow, by blowing a farewell bubble,
and bobbing a bit before submerging,
reassimilating, they demurely slide back
into oneness again, placidly patient,
until it is their turn to dive once more.
by Polly Castor