Mottled grey skies greeted me before sunrise,
even in the dim light they showed their lush spotted face well,
readying a deluge,
the sermon of renewal all creatures know.
I’ve been held up within myself this winter,
gathering the smaller pieces of me,
sorting them, remembering them, releasing them,
cherishing a few.
I’m ready for green sprouts as the heavy sky releases its gift.
I would be buried in rain hands of remaking for days if I could stand it.
When the sky is done shouting its glory,
Dog and I will walk out into the intoxicating cathedral air celebrating each other,
and the trees and dirt that know us so well.
I don’t know if I’ve ever needed this rain sky so much as now,
something to remake me,
something so that I can feel new again,
ready to birth a small portion of splendour
back into the world that has held me as an unexpected treasure all of my life.
