At the Coming of the First Rains

Water falls from the sky
and I pause to ponder
unrelenting blessing on you, O my soul
numbered among sinners
yet standing under the banner of righteousness

What Grace is this?
it pours freely, abundantly
more than I can bear to ask for
sufficient in its cleansing
overwhelming in its content and its rushing tide

I can only watch the rain in silence
as it cleans the earth from the stains of a season
and look up to the Source
unable to comprehend His ways and yet
grateful for Grace