The wash of morning rain….
Nothing other than the sound of its falling.
Now - begins what we know here as stick season.
Some call it color-less.
But - for the birds….
Who continue to raise their voices…sing their songs….and render the landscape color-full.
Morning's Rain
Just she and me in this morning’s rain.
Water falling. Wind blowing.
I thought she might just fly away.
But - there she stood. Just breathing it all in.
Determined…brave…strong.
Knowing.
Every storm - eventually - runs out of rain.
Of Hope
The promise of spring flowers…these April showers.
Cleansing. Clearing. New beginnings.
A washing away of all that’s old.
A making of space for what’s becoming.
A simple promise.
Of hope.