mused with mary

Some see rain and they think about how the rain will soak their shoes

and hair

and clothes

and books

Some see rain and they think about how they wish they were still in bed

with a good book

with a cup of coffee

with a day away from school

Some see rain and they think about the drive to work

the walk to class

the time outdoors

the cancelled plans

Some see rain and they hate it

they despise it

they wish for it to cease

But what happens

when a forest fire

is raging and soaring and singing and thriving

And the sky is painted orange, and the ground is painted black

Could you only imagine

what would happen

if we were out there

and faintly in the distance

slowly approaching

we saw the same rain

that we had grown to dislike?

Perhaps we could see the importance,

finally,

of perspective.