A Rainy Doxology

Some people want peace like a river

Sometimes I desire peace

Like shelter in a rainstorm.

The quick kind of storm,

Like those daily summer southern afternoon baptisms the sky blesses

when it gets too hot.

The ones that come with resonant

rolling thunderclap sermons,

And lightning flashed hallelujahs and amens.

The ones that wash away the heat scorched,

Sweat soaked sins of

midday hunger disguised as foolishness,

And oppressive frustration costumed in humidity

At least for an hour or two.

I like that kind of peace.

Because it makes you slow down,

And keep the Earth company,

As she siestas, as she grieves,

and as she nourishes in the midafternoon.

And damn, it’s a privilege to be in her company.

And damn, is she beautiful, rare, and magical.

And damn, is she a miracle to behold.

And glory to God’s Love in the Highest for choosing us to honor, to cherish, and to adorn her so.