Raindrops
By Ciaran Parkes
I'm reassured, in a small way, by the sound
of raindrops as I lie awake at night. They come
down, if anything does, from heaven.
They're angels who, instead of wings, possess
the gift of falling to the earth and breaking
against everything they touch. Their bright
bodies aren't designed to last. I only
hear them as they land and cease to be.