Small rain

In honor of this rainy day.


Even in the desert, it rains. Life,
always hidden, springs anew
from every branch and plant,
fragrance blooming from creosote,
the scent of fresh-washed soil rising
as rains mend the parched earth
and rally wizened leaves;
then comes the rainbow,
marking a promise fulfilled.

Via #dverse

…my speech shall distil as the dew, as the small rain upon the tender herb…

There are no small rains in the desert, where every drop is treasured. If only our words could be as valued and life-giving.
As I looked through my blog posts, I found a disproportionate number of references to rain. The above poem was created by combining phrases from a few of them.

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