It is early morning and raining
At a lake high up in the mountains.
The rising sun glistens each droplet
Of steady, liquid moisture,
transforming the lake into moving crystals.
Wending its way through leaves,
It makes them rustle with laughter.
The birds wrap up their morning run.
They flit from water to limb and water again,
Gossiping gaily with one another.
Taking cover doesn’t occur to me.
I stand on a rock exposed above the lake,
With arms outstretched and palms up,
And lift my face to sweetness
Washing over me, cleansing my thoughts.
My eyes blink open
To behold the mighty Rockies,
Glorious gift-givers to my soul.
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