Rain

Oh sweet rain,
wash me clean –
clean of the morning

discord with
the one I love,
clean of the obstacles

that block
the words
I mean to say, clean

of useless guilt,
this bane of
being human.

All day, the sky
is open and
I am ready. Ready

to release
these life-hewn
habits, to

begin again
like the lime
green grass

that pushes
up after the
long, dark winter.

Revival

I am not sure how I forgot,
but I did.

The peace lily
(Spathiphyllum)

by the toaster
shriveled,

contracted,
and the pang of guilt

one feels on the heels
of neglect.

TheĀ faucet rains
until gravel floats

and by nightfall, green leaves
reflect moonlight.

I am forgiven. Forgiven
the way we give ourselves

permission to return
to ourselves.