Rain like Grace Falling

I’m cutting daisies in this rain falling over the quiet morning like Sunday Grace.

I’m holding utterly still breathing the scent of water and flowers

The cups of the small roses reaching up

Every leaf trembling

 green prayers



*Its been a month since rain fell here. The ground is hard packed and parched. Even the trees are beginning to die. This little shower won’t save the corn fields or the beans but it is a gift and balm to our thirsty souls.


About wrensong

I am a poet who collects stones. I am a wanderer of creek beds and forests, canyons and high desert who, coming home, sometimes finds words to tell the story. I am a companion with others in the search for Deep, Wild Soul. I shape containers in time and space for others to come together to write, to tell their stories, to hold each other in the telling. I am a grandmother and the companion of a cat named Alaya. I often travel out into open country with a man who calls himself Dunewalker who has hung his hammock in my heart.
This entry was posted in A River of Stones, aros, Poetry, rain, Small Stones, The River and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

11 Responses to Rain like Grace Falling

  1. been too long away from your beautiful writing… such a refreshment to read your words – thank you. hope you get the rain you need soon. loved the “green prayers answered” …

  2. jane tims says:

    Hi. I like the tree backdrop on your blog. I also like the stillness the poem conveys. Jane

  3. seedbud says:

    so beautiful! ‘green prayers answered’…may more rain come your way.

  4. Laurie Ritchie says:

    Beautiful. I feel that same grace this morning.

  5. Our area is longing for rain too – and your beautiful words came as a Sunday Grace to me.

  6. sandy says:

    Wren, this is wonderful. I can feel the joy of the rain in your words.

  7. John Stevens says:

    These lines are delightful – no unnecessary words or excited phrases, just the right details to carry the scene straight into our minds.
    I don’t especially go for concrete or shaped poems, but here you’ve used the shape subtly to underscore the impression of the flowers opening up to the rain. It’s not easy to get lines to be so exactly right in length without compromising the substance of the lines by one iota.
    I’m full of admiration.

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