After the Rain

The earth exhales its oldest prayer,

a scent of pine and moistened loam,

as raindrops on the window glass

dissolve like travelers heading home.

The branches, heavy with their grief,

lift gently to the amber light;

a solitary sparrow sings

to banish what remained of night.

And in that stillness after storm,

where sky and sod once more agree,

I find the courage to begin

and let the quiet awaken me.