The Puddle

It rained heavily during the night, and in the morning a large puddle appeared in the main street of the town.

Fine men and women saw the puddle and thought it a nuisance, and lifted their skirts and trousers as they went on their way.

A farmer saw the puddle and thought of his crops, and thanked the rain for its blessings as he went on his way.

A painter saw the puddle and thought it a charming thing, and reflected on light and ripples as he went on his way.

A philosopher saw the puddle and thought it a representation of an obstacle of life, and mused on puddles and paths as he went on his way.

A poet saw the puddle and thought of the certain smell of its opaque waters and the mysterious touch of its skin of sunlight, and was gripped with inspiration as he went on his way.

A child saw the puddle and ran into its depths, and jumped and kicked and shrieked with delight to feel the coolness upon his skin, and taste the salt upon his lips, and hear the satisfying splashes beneath his feet and see the drops flying around him.

And all stopped to watch him and their hearts stirred within them, though they could not help but think of his dirtying clothes and chance of catching an infection.