rain droplets on glass

outside at camp into
the gray sky, the shades
of green the trees nuance
to blend in, fit with everything 
I see, the rain falling, that sound
on the roof that takes the moment
back, back beyond recorded history
as the tops of trees dance with the 
breeze, a blue’s delight of seduction. 
I think how far back history goes,
how those moments of rain and trees
and breeze and watching have been
repeated for millenia, how reassuring 
and new it is, how natural history 
does not need recorded, how the past
and present coalesce to now.