Last night I shared a quiet poem with you
About the rain. I want to turn to it again,
Considering how challenging it’s been
To simply let it be and see it through.
I want to understand it better though
Just as the sound of it cannot explain
The source of it, or how, time and again,
By every quiet word of it, we grow.
God visits earth and waters it with rain
And makes us rich. God fills the river full
Of rain, then fills the furrowed land
With grain. And in each field God takes the soil
And softens every ridge, that we may know
To praise the one from whom all blessings flow.
