What if rain softened you
the way it softens Earth?
You’d grow kindness
instead of grass; your heart
would flower like an orchard.

So lie on your back in the garden
one sunny morning in May
after plowing, before planting.
Watch the clouds forming
slowly in the sky.
See the sun, our yellow,
ordinary star.

Everything around you–
every single thing,
all the bits and spaces–
descended, cohered,
rose and blew apart.

What, after all, is rain?
How do you differ from dust?
What is the weight of light?
Now close your eyes.
Remember what happened.
Remember it will happen again.
Remember there’s no place but home.

May 11, 2013


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