After the rain the leaves let fall
A few explicit drops;
The sodden turf is firming up again.
Ferns glisten sharp and separate;
By grace of touch
I think I feel their crisp serration.
The toothed edges, as of a fossil caught
In the mind's amber,
Whose outlines I can trace and trace again.
Upon this drenched and drying spine of fern
A blob of rain
Is magnifying glass to one small thought.
After the rain it is time to quit
The mind's museum
For the largess of the still-wet leaves.
- - - - -
Ananta Madhavan
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/after-the-rain-42/
