In my desert retreat in New Mexico I watched through the window as sheets of rain streamed through the skies and enveloped the landscape.
And slid down the glass in an abstract slick.
Later when the rain slowed I stepped outside into a wonderland.
And coyote prints marked the soil with signs of recent passage.
Flowers, soaked and rain saturated, bent to the capriciousness of swollen clouds,
Like humble Hearts receiving the wild rains of Grace.