Rain. . .

peaceful rain,

pittering, pattering,

spit, spat,

drop after drop,

filling up empty spaces.

Rain is like the spirit of  the Lord,

he comes gradually at first.

in spits and spats,

pittering, pattering,

filling the potholes of my soul

with love and peace.

Then coming in a deluge,

coursing through the rain gutters

of my burning bosom, overflowing.

Rain- a gift from God.

The Holy Ghost- a gift from God.

We never truly appreciate either,

until there's a drought.

My spiritual drought is almost over.

The rain has been coming in spits and spats,

with an occasional deluge.

So I'm cleaning my rain gutters,

preparing for the next heavenly cloud burst.

Thank you, Lord,

for raining upon me in my hour of need,

raining down on me thy spirit, thy comforter,

thy relentless comforting rain.

My spiritual desert

is just starting to bloom. . .

no longer a desert,

but a sprouting garden.

                                      Derry, April 5, 1993