another turn

I turn
the calendar page.
another day.
week, month.
nearly a year.
so much rain this year.
good for the green,
the ducks,
the fish,
the frogs.
out the window I see
an emerald wall.
I see the fat trees
full
of rain water,
heavy and leaning,
sighing from the long
summer,
so many
about to fall.
I turn the calendar
page.
i'm still in the moment.
awake, alive.
suddenly amused
at all of it.
my turn has come, again.