“The day after rain”
The day after fall rains comes
expectantly, the Sun now free
from gray clouds crowding out light,
hanging over the mountains
like curtains, while thick clouds hover
over the valleys, shrouding them from view.
The night before, we sheltered
in our homes, heard the pounding
of rain drops overhead, watched
the golden leaves being stripped
from the trees, the last semblance of fall,
and then slept soundly, snuggled under blankets
and a heavy fall quilt.
In the morning, the sun bursts
over the east mountains, unencumbered
by suffocating dark clouds and mist.
We saunter out, basking
in the brightness and warmth,
inhaling the fresh air
that the rains cleansed
throughout the night.
Some trees still have their golden leaves
although many of them now lie scattered
upon the ground until they dry,
and the wind picks them up
and hustles them away.
It’s refreshing the day after rain,
one that soothes us, causes us
to breathe deeply,
clarity of thought overwhelming us.
Yet, we pray that more rain will come
in snow form, more deliberately,
strategically, causing our rivers
and reservoirs to fill,
ultimately quenching
our parched lands and lives,
creating within us a sense
of newness and purity.
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