THREE LITTLE DROPS

As I passed water in the mornings dawn,

the last three little drops made sound,

three notes they made, a tune, a melody

that caught my ear and carried on a song.

What moments catch attention,

in our everyday routine, what sounds,

so tiny, yet as silence so surrounds us

we hear their call, their poetry, ditties 

unaware that they now entertain, the brain.

Sweet simple things can make a poem, screed, 

or fill a need for inspiration,

none so easy to obtain as that which happens, so mundane,

and yet it is the theme I choose for this, what bliss!

The drips from trees after rain are more poetic, now! 

But maybe their melodies are not the notes, that woods 

they conjure up, the atmosphere superior, mossed, 

where sitting on the loo is merely dross, banal. (anal !!!)

Our perception does not judge the place,

nor choose to understand, it comes and forms a meaning of itself, 

so let the little things of life express themselves, yes?