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Listen to the Rhythm of the Falling Rain

You, her and him, are in this --
it is a jug of pure water in the likeness
of a virgin glazed with rain beside white
chickens, or a mountain pinned to a railway

station (an installation), and in this way
the rain courses through holies, idols,
people of pain and passion, chance rain
that bends heads with its drops, dissolves,

shatters light, carries logs in bending streams.
Men and women scramble to dam the wondrous rain.
They cannot understand its massive rhythm:
that such a cascade feeds on joy and not

on competition. It is grace that sets
sun moon and stars to shine. Laughter
comes from talking, pain from healing.
Rain moves the strongest hearts.


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