Vince Imbat

Tiny Drops

Jan 16, 2023

I hear the tiny drops of rain
dropping one by one
and together over the large
grown leaves of the noni.

They mumble a silent little prayer
for a sunnier day because
the sky has been so dark
for a very long time now.

If the rain could only speak
what will it tell me?
And what if it does speak
and its language is these tiny drops?

And by staying put on this mat
spread on this wooden floor where I sit cross-legged
listening intently to whatever comes

I might, if I’m ever fortunate,
hear a whisper of a lifetime—
the rain speaking a barely audible
“I love you.”