first spring rains

I’ve been feeling a bit like Elijah on the mountain lately,

waiting for some major answers from up above.

And this morning, all dressed up for work,

with strands all curled and a coffee to go,

caught in the first spring rains of the year,

undergirded by thunder, lightning, heavy winds,

seeking refuge on a little porch near the church,

it dawned on me: that whisper

“What are you doing here?” is meant for me, too.

Its cheeky, uncanny truth is shared with me, too,

compelling me to find out what that inner voice,

having been there all along, talking to me the entire time,

has to say.

I just have to know whether one, I am all truly ears

and two, whether I am ready to act on it.

But that’s then. A cold spring beer first.

 

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