While I was sitting in my garden chair
rain began falling in my neighborhood.
A meteorological event.
The elemental compound water, formula H2O,
two atoms of hydrogen to each atom of oxygen
was dropping from the cloud dark sky.
A chemical occurrence.
Or to put it phenomenologically,
I was experiencing wetness; my hat was wet,
my shirt was, my pants were.
The discomfort of wetness increased.
Everything was getting wetter.
Except my coffee in its open mug was not.
Looking through the lens of physics,
my coffee was already wet.
Liquid is brewed coffee’s natural state.
Can liquid get wetter?
My coffee, still wet, is now weaker,
less flavorful, and cooling toward
equilibrium with the ambient air.
To cast the incident as an existential crisis,
I had to make a decision,
prolong my sensory experience of rain,
or return inside before I am drenched.
The rain forced me to a question of values.
Which value would serve my deepest need;
the sensible choice of not getting wet,
or the sensual choice of falling water?