Rains come, pounding rooftops,
saturating every inch of soil
down to the deep.

Water creeps under floorboards,
pours past garage doors,
gushes into low-lying collection basins.

Bridges connecting small
country roads turn impassable,
the ones aging at the bottom

of mountains near abandoned
railroad tracks.
Grief is a sister to flood rain.

Holding hands, they roll
over restraining walls.
Together they stream, surge, cascade —

out over the land
of the heart, into valleys
of the mind, through the dark woods.

Grief is love uncaged —
overflowing, endless love.
Grief is love realized and released.

Grief is love let free.

From 100 Words: Small Servings of Whimsy and Wisdom to Calm the Mind and Nourish the Heart, (Balboa Press, 2018). Posted by kind permission of the poet.