Gardener's Gratitude

It began
with heavy,
plunking
drops...

falling from the sky like liquid stones.
A few at first,
as though a small hole had punctured
the firmament.

Then, like a waterlogged ceiling,
the sky seemed to sag
and burst,
drenching
the soil,
splashing
on the street and sidewalk.

Overhead on the attic vents, the rain hammered
a tinny percussion
a song long forgotten...

While we watched through the water-streaked glass,
and listened with awe and reverence and gratitude.