Rain, rain, rain --- all night it rained in pounding arhythmic beats on the roof.
The pond has overflowed into the grass. The fields are swollen with rain, making for a spongy walk around the grounds. There is something stirring about the rush and roar of water. Its power is at its zenith when it is catapulting around rocks and trees at high speed - undeniable and unstoppable.
Tiny feeder rivulets that are usually invisible were miniature cascades down the hill, and the brook was a torrent.
What is it that fires the soul in the presence of this powerful force of nature? Why do we stand and watch, both mesmerized and intimidated? I'm not sure, but I know it was a nice jolt to my lagging spirits of late.
After a half hour perusing a number of poems about water (the on line world is an amazing research tool), here is one simple one I chose to reprint here. It is by Raymond A. Foss:
Grounded in the Water
All of life's problems bleed away
When I get grounded in the water