PearlDrops

this morning, early

when i walked out to feed the chooks

i looked up into the wintry geometry of the birch trees

of which there is a small copse which i planted 

when i first arrived, in honour of my father

(i remember standing on the veranda 

and throwing nine sticks into the air

then planting a birch in each spot they had landed)

this morning they offered me a gift

rows of clear pearl drops of rain

and each one reflecting the world around it

so many wortlds

so many stories

"there is no name for what i want to be when i grow up"