Untamed.

Unconfined, left to do as it will.

The whole house has gutters, the barn too. But not this porch outside of my bedroom. “No gutters please”, I said to the builders.

“The water will cause damage”, they said. “It will wash out the hill.”

“It’s ok.” I said to them.

But in my head, I also said, “It will drip like music on the rocks placed below. It will make rainy days sound like old days spent in an old barn, with a well loved horse. The runoff will wet the flowers I will plant below.”

I did not plan for the sparkling icicles.

I did, however, do the hard work of not taming.