Pentecost Week: Wednesday

If I were obtuse to signs and symbols,

You would make me a mystic yet,

Eager eyes fixed to the skies.

Pentecost week:

Yesterday there was a cloud in my path

For all appearances

Exactly like a dove

Just lifting off in flight--

Or perhaps alighting on some branch,

A deep, fluttering calm,

And I wondered.

Today, sprinkles of sweet rain from heaven.

And lest you say it is spring,

And rain no great thing for May,

I tell you the rain fell upon the desert,

Upon thirsty ground,

Upon weary, haggard land,

Washing it clean,
Quenching deep-rooted thirst.