The orange-red fronds
of dead bracken ferns,
glisten in the ambient light
from this grey-skied afternoon,
as rain descends in long lines
drawn by hesitant hands
with heaven’s choir
singing water music.
Two days past birthing
and refugee babies cry for milk,
with Mary’s song echoing across years
as mothers glance heavenward,
seeking signs of showers.
Divine grace descends like rain,
falling steadily soaking trees,
as earth echoes songs of rain.
The streams of God are full,
cascading with playful prayers
towards the misty lake.
Barrenness and drought call out
to those living in lands of rainfall,
asking for aid beyond a cup of water.
Parched human hearts
look skyward for signs of rain
while drenched souls stumble
in watery grace-soaked lands,
even their trail maps soaked
with the fullness
of grace upon grace.
~fern photo and poem by David Robinson, Dec. 27, 2010