soaked

this morning I ran with a song in my head
my eyelashes and hair grabbing drops
out of the fog-weighted air
I sang past the milkweed under
its grey-sparkled blanket
a spider's home illumined
its loopy strands bridging trees across the path
raspberry plants proudly sporting pendant necklaces
near Floradale Road the cicada song
rose to take the lead vocal
and I forgot for a moment to sing
until I touched my wet hair 
and realized I was soaked in praise