A family recipe, a childhood memory, a Depression-era handout
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I’ve decided that I’m religious but not spiritual.
— Gregory Wolfe
I always feel more religious in the sunshine,
especially if it’s not hot and the place is pretty
and most people can’t afford to get there or just
don’t bother. Morning has broken and all that.
And so the rattle of rain on the tarp doesn’t really
make me count my blessings, the stray drops
beading my borrowed rain pants don’t bring
me bliss, the fact of fewer mosquitoes
than yesterday does not make my heart leap up.
But I know that one day I must learn
to give up for good on getting dry,
to love the hiss of water meeting water,
the gray lake accepting the gray rain,
so little between them, our slender place
between the great sky and the stones.
Hold tight, I tell my heart, here we go.