There was a man in the rain.
He had on a raincoat, and
Held his hood like a shield against
The autumn storm,
Though without an umbrella, he still
Got wet.
His hair was cut, and
His beard was shaved, and
He didn’t want them damp.
The night looked gray from his eyes.
Everything looked gray from his eyes.
His step was quick, and
It was stubborn, and
It was stern.
He avoided the pools of water,
For his shoes might be ruined;
And no one wants ruined shoes
To go to a very important meeting in.

A young boy,
Who wore only his normal clothing
Unsuited for rain, but
Had an umbrella closed in his hand.
He was joyful, because
To him the world was blue;
All shades of azure.
His pace was a skip,
And his footprints
Left good-natured ripples
In the puddles he danced in.
His feet were cool, because
He had stripped them
Bare of shoes
For the pure content of
Water between his toes.

They were both traveling down
The same sidewalk
At an identical time, but
One saw blue, and
One saw gray.

They met via splash,
Which annoyed the man, and
Concerned the boy, but
The boy was not concerned
For the man’s trousers,
Which were now wet with
Splattered puddle.
He was concerned because
The man did not look like
He was enjoying the rain very much.

“Mister, why are you not happy?
Everything is so blue,”
The boy said curiously.

“No,” the man rebutted,
“It is gray, and
The rain is cold, and
Careless children are splashing their
elders.”
The man was irritated.
He was still concerned with
His soggy trousers.

“But, sir,”
The boy informed the man,
“The sky is really blue,
Under all of these clouds.
Mother said that
The clouds come to
Bring us water to drink, and
Thunder is an angel’s laugh, and
That it is not a bad thing.”

The man grumbled,
Even still concerned, now more than
ever, with
His trousers.
“The rain is freezing, and
The clouds make the air
Thick and sticky, so
It is not a good thing.”

“Oh, but, Mister,”
The boy’s eyes were big.
“Without the clouds to bring us water,
We would be rather thirsty, and
Dirty, and
We would want the clouds back.”
He just did not understand
How the man did not see
What good things the clouds were.
“Sir, my mother told me once that
Some people walk in the rain.
Then she said others
Only get wet.”

“I’m sorry, lad,”
The man did not sound
Very sorry at all.
“But I must be off to a meeting.
You see, it is a very important meeting,
and
It will include very prominent people.
I cannot be late,
Nor wet.”

The boy did not see at all, for
He did not know what kind of
People were ‘Prominent’, but
He nodded respectfully, and
Began to let the man
Walk past him.

“But, Mister, wait!” The boy called.
“If it is important,
That you not feel the rain, then
I can lend you my umbrella.”

The man looked in
The boys big, happy eyes, and said
“Thank you.”


Four years later,
It is raining and,
The man who was concerned with his


trousers
Sees the boy who say the clouds
As good.
The boy is a teenager now, and
Is walking up some stairs to
A building.

“Boy,” The man called,
“I remember you.
You lent me your umbrella, but
I never met you again
To return it.”

“Oh, it is alright,”
The boy said back.
“I have no use for umbrellas.
They only get in the way of
The clouds.” He told the man
With a cheerful tone.

“Well, thanks to you,
Neither do I,”
The man was pleased with
His new-found optimism.
He read the sign above
The building the boy was walking into
And asked, “You are at an
Orphanage?”

“Yes, Sir” The boy replied, but
Not sadly.
“The day I met you was
Exactly one year
After my mother had died.
I was not happy
For her death, but rather
Happy to be alive
In the rain.”

The man contemplated
This idea.
And found new meaning to
Clouds.