Rain on Cabrillo by Mark Tulin

I pull over on Cabrillo
to watch the rain
through my car window,

a blur of swaying palm trees
and cloud-burst windy skies,
an impression by chance,
an engraving on a wet afternoon
into a waterfall of glory.

Pouring rain is a haze of simplicity,
subdued and opulent,
channeling liquid energy
into one narrow moment
of youth and purity.

Previously published at The Local Train Magazine.