Inside the snug colonial tavern,
lulled by the silvery clinking of tea cups
filled with steaming hot cocoa and tea,
we were not prepared for the torrential downpour
Crowded under the porch eaves with a dozen others,
Little Lady Curls and I were the first to step out
to a chorus of "Ohhh, nooo."
I smiled to myself.
Oh, the charms of rain have gripped me from childhood.
Puddles form a distaff for sparkling river notes.
Flowers swoon in soggy-hooped skirts.
Peppered by a staccato rhythm,
rain barrels become drums.
And the whole world draws in doors
latching shutters and lighting lamps
and the little wrenn snuggles within her bottle.
What is the matter, my little one?
Do you not see the charm in the day?
One is not easily charmed when one's shoe has a hole
may I ever be aware,
that faith is easy
when our feet are dry.
And so I kneel, to dry your feet
and give them warmth
and share my faith.
This, too, is His way.
Beloved, He knows even if the world does not.