The soothing sense of waking whence the rain’s
munificence is gently pouring scented dreams is
heavenly again; from months of arid agony we’d
earned reprieve, can live without our confidence
confined in dusty flecks too moistureless to hold
in mind, the crumbling brown of dying land; we’ll
breathe in effervescence of relief, sleep liberally
and rise a while to see a gentle growth of green
This is the width of harmony - without the curse
of mindless words - tho where we are defined it
leaves to providence we’ve yet to understand -
and if it is a grand design there’s measures we
will never be the masters of - at best we’ll seed
a future with the birth of ever lesser plans
© 4 Jun 2016, I. D. Carswell
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