In time of drought, let us be
thankful for this very gentle rain,

a gift not to be disdained
though it is little and brief,

reaching no great depth, barely
kissing the leaves’ lips. Think of it as

mercy. Other minor blessings may
show up–tweezers for splinters,

change for the parking meter,
a green light at the intersection,

a cool wind that lifts away summer’s
suffocating heat. An apology after

a harsh comment. A word that opens
an unfinished poem like a key in a lock.

Luci Shaw

All poems are copyrighted by Luci Shaw.
To be reprinted only by permission of the author.