After the Rain

After the Rain

(“In times past, God let each nation go its own way.” Acts 14:16)

After the rain has washed the summer dust
from the crop-lines,
and
after the day and night are divided, half and half,
12 dark, 12 light,
and
after the morning bell tolls in digital tones
I may wake refreshed again, without lying on the
couch again,
wishing the night was longer until morning and
morning washed lasting the dog-eared vellum from
my dreams.

After the snow has melted the winter ice
from the curbstops,
and
after the day and night are divided, even steven,
12 dark, 12 light,
and
after the morning bell buzzes battery powered,
I may swing my feet onto the floor, without much more
than the normal last photograph of a dream that took me
on vacation where friends remained as they were since
30 spring and autumn changes.

After the light opens the very last flavor,
whether pumpkin pie or watermelon ices,
after the light has closed and locked the doors for the night
I may sleep in peace with the rest who
have taken up the offer of grace beyond measure,
(it has been His pleasure to wait until we all could hear)
and press my feet upon the warm floor, into the
the dream that puts pain in its place and leaves every
reverie right.