Grace and Peace to you.
These clouds come from another need,
have gathered patiently,
give themselves without regard.
We carry such small handfuls
beneath this great giving and receiving,
forget so quickly the cup, the sea.
Of what is made of rain, much or little,
brown floods or green flowering,
we ourselves will make something.
And brother drought,
the times of wide, dry waiting
teach us the holiness of our longing.
Baptized into this
we only flow and do not pool,
proceed but do not end.
The rivulet, the drop,
the warm evaporating sea
go somewhere, and go on.
In our gathering and releasing,
being formed and borne and spent,
how dependent we are, how part.
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