Your kiss, God, lingers
in the rain rich air and
your damp lips
stay the day’s chaos. I
look hard for a bow of
promise in the sky,
but no and yet
clouds glimmer hope
with gilded edges
and
in the odour after the rain
I sense Your scent.
You, God, are
after the rain – I feel
your weight in wind’s caress,
wet with joy.
You, God, are in plants panting Your Breath
You, God, in this butterfly speaking hope
You, God, in that harried immigrant smiling love
You, God, in swell of wave, in surge of faith.
You.
You’ve captured so well what I think of as the primary mystery of rain. You can smell it coming, and after it’s gone, its scent does linger. But during the rain event itself, it’s all sound and sting and slosh. The hints of its coming and going are far more graceful.
Yes, most certainly is a poem to be written entitled “Before the Rain”! Snow, by contrast is pure heaven in its falling, at least when it isn’t accompanied by a violent wind!
Lovely, Allen! xxx
Thanks Dianne!
You captured His omnipotence reverently and I like the ending.
Thanks for this encouragement!