Raining Acorns

     I do not believe the saying “into everyone’s life a little rain must fall.” To say “I believe” means I have the choice to not believe, to disbelieve the saying. The reality is, whether the physical rain or the metaphorical rain of life’s challenges and disappointments, rain, yes, will fall. In the end, it is not a matter of belief or disbelief. The rain, simply, is and the nature of rain is to fall. 
     I may not like it and pout or rail against the rain. Alternatively, I may embrace it with the fullness of hope. To curse or question the rain that falls and not also mourn the seed’s husk that is shattered, when the sprout seeks the sun, suggests my focus is not so much on the nature of rain or growth but what happens next, what I see. One rains on my picnic and I’m not pleased. The other, the seed’s husk cracking wide upon, is masked and unnoticed by the beauty of the flower. I do not tell the acorn that is shattered, so that the oak may grow, that into every acorn’s life a little rain must fall. No, it is the wonder of the beauty and strength that springs from the tiny seeds and acorns that arouses the poet’s heart.
     Do I dare to think both are the same- rain and the husks of seeds?