Contemplating Rain

Today would be a perfect day for drowning.
Not that I would care to die, because I enjoy
the quality of living, but it is so wet lately.
The river is high, and the small beaches
along the edge of the park are all underwater.
It is just that it would be so easy to walk,
unguarded and unconscious in mind, through
the damp grass, to where the river sits, still
only for these few feet. I could be an author
of novels in early 1900s England, filling
my pockets with stones and following
my soul into the water, or I could just wait
on the shallow bank for the rain to start
again, soaking me until my feet sink
deep into the mud and I fall to my knees,
waves lapping over me until I lose my breath
and my heart halts inside my chest.
Peace, and calm inside the storm,
and I have never felt quite so dead.