Washed white

The rain is falling in torrents.
The earth's muddy smell invades my nostrils.
That smell, oh, that smell. It is life happening.
I welcome the rain, its tumbling, the drenching of nature.
The giving of drink to a world once in hibernation.

Soon, very soon, the buttercups
Will crack their way through the soil.
The grass will return greener than the spring prior,
The cottontail bunnies will emerge with their families,
To our chagrin, the moles aching for sandy dirt will also.

Spring spurs a desire for rebirth in myself.
As the waves of rain release from heaven,
I want them to pour through me, too.
I want them to wash away the selfish parts,
Bring new life to those desperate ones.

I seek the courage to sit and wait in it.
To close my eyes and let the water pour over me.
I may shiver, the rain may not fall gently,
But it would be worth it to be washed white.

Oh, to be washed white.

~mh

I'm thankful for the below scripture; it is perfect and beautiful for a rainy day and reminds me, yet again, how special rain is to me. It's Wilder's middle name (Raine), after all.

Isaiah 55:9-12a

For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven,
And do not return there without watering the earth
And making it bear and sprout,
And furnishing seed to the sower and bread to the eater;
So will My word be which goes forth from My mouth;
It will not return to Me empty, Without accomplishing what I desire,
And without succeeding in the matter for which I sent it.
For you will go out with joy
And be led forth with peace.
~