The Plop

Ashley Parks

Year: Junior

Major: Writing, Theater

Hometown: Woodbridge, VA


Don’t you love those moments

in the rain

as you siphon your body 

through the trees,

usually rushing,

in a fruitless race 

to keep dry.

your foot clomps down one more time 

on the rain-soaked earth,

fields of crystal-clear puddles, 

concrete and asphalt cauldrons 

and soon your socks are soaked. 

as the wetness grows thicker

you knock a Branch,

but the prime assault

is not from Him.

the wrath comes from up above 

as a single, pregnant, drop 

of rain comes tumbling 



until at last it reaches 

its final destination.

a hard, resounding plop!

it lands right on the bridge of your nose 

and sends an icy shockwave 

through your whole being.

spreading up to the precipice

of your bottom lash lines

sinking down and through the base

of your chin.

What a wonderful, rainy day.

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