I Am an Idiot


I’m an idiot,
for I will rise
from my work
to watch raindrops
patter on a sidewalk
as though I’d never
seen them before,
as though these were
the first rain
on the first day
in freaking Eden.

I’m like the child
who never tires
of watching
Jack spring from the box,
who is surprised,
each time,
who squeals with delight,
each time,
as though
this were revelation
and he or she
hadn’t seen this,
thousands of times.

Being an idiot,
I sometimes think
I could make a religion of this,
of this staring stupidly
at the rain,
for certainly,
one could (and people have)
made religions of worse.
I think I could probably
gather about me
a whole troupe
of “spiritual wives”
and we could
watch the rain together,
which would be fun,
for sure,
for a time,
but being an idiot,
I lack the will
for that,
or, perhaps,
the low cunning.

This is why,
I suppose,
gurus are gurus,
and I, I,
am just another

Art: Bildinhalt: Pflaster im Regen Aufnahmeort: Baden-Baden, Deutschland. Frank C. Müller [CC BY-SA 4.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0)%5D

Copyright 2017. Robert D. Shepherd. All rights reserved.

For more poems by Bob Shepherd (and essays on reading and writing poetry), go here: https://bobshepherdonline.wordpress.com/category/poetry/