This morning when I arrived home from shopping, I saw the sprinklers had
just finished wetting the tree, hedges, grass and other plants in our cul de
sac. Everything glistened, vibrating with a green hymn of intensity. In the
distance, The Saint Gabriel mountains
loomed over our valley enshrouded in dramatic swaths of mist. A bird landed on
our single street lamp leaning its head toward way. I felt almost enshrined in this moment of
green and wet resplendence. To actually feel absorbed by the coolness of water
when drought is always threatening and prevalent, is a very spiritual thing. A
Christening that also invokes questions of what next and when will the
sprinkling be forced to stop. When will the lawns and leafage be left to
wither? But for the moment, the exhilaration of green overshadowed those
worries.
The Verdant Joy
After a long, wet moment,
the sprinklers having soaked
hedge and grass, the leaves of an Asian maple,
a sparrow lands on the street lamp.
She tilts her head toward mountains
plumed in mist, the wings of St. Gabriel
leaning forward to cover and protect.
What I ask - some blessing or bane
hidden from view? The cul de sac
glistens in shades of green, light filtering
through key holes of foliage. I know enough
not to ask more --just savor the silence, these seconds
spilling into a morning psalm.
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