Balcony

Let me tell you about sitting on the balcony in the rain as it come down around the world
showering our hearts, wetting our minds to breath and masking our inherited sin and madness
of the night out there maybe the madness natural because the trees are mad
the river is surely mad
I can't hear that river through the rain, but know it kneels and lays out on the valley out there
under the bridge
madmen made the bridge and I drive over it, so I must be mad there with them
and I swim in the river even swim in the rain
I hear the showers of our loneliness
loud, like the showers of our togetherness
family, and alone
both envelope the balcony
and both are madness
then where is sense?
but all these trees make sense, and the waters
though horizontal or vertical
sense can be drawn out of the river
lifted through the trees into the sky
and cover the yard outside the balcony
with sense, each drop making sense when it lands