A little Fall of Rain

Though the rain pours in torrents I cannot help but hear its touch on the window as a caress, rather than a series of violent abrasions.

I long for lightening to streak across the sky and instead the clouds form their murky embrace across the heavens and the occasional star peers through to watch the world glisten as the light of the moon slips across drenched streets and dripping windshields.

My heart is soft, as I lean over this screen and peer again out at the world, sleeping beneath the patter of rain. I am alone, but not lonely. My family dreams in the rooms surrounding and my smile hums an echo of remembrances over the quietest moments of this past weekend: a certain gaze returned over the flicker of candlelight, his laugh as answer to my joy, quiet arms enfolding a moment of silence stolen in a crowded room or a noisy bus or a moonlit street. Conversations that transcend all levels of understanding we'd previously striven for, pushed at, run towards, and fallen from--until we finally became nothing, and surrendered everything to He who drags the stars down from the sky to rest their glow in our cheeks. The deepest parts of my heart memorize every word until I can replay phrase after phrase and recall the precise moments when our souls Communed: when the lightbulb flickered on in the attics of our minds: when our breath finally released in the triumphant sigh.

How do I describe the Intercession of the Creator?

It begins with a question: his hand offered, palm up. And the answer: my own palm against his--slides,

like the dew from the leaf in the gold glow
of the dawn.