Last night/ the rain/ spoke to me/ slowly, saying,/ what joy/ to come falling/ out of the brisk cloud,/ to be happy again/ in a new way/ on the earth!/ That’s what it said/ as it dropped,/ smelling of iron,/ and vanished/ like a dream of the ocean/ into the branches/ and the grass below./ Then it was over./ The sky cleared./ I was standing/ under a tree./ The tree was a tree/ with happy leaves,/ and I was myself,/ and there were stars in the sky/ that were also themselves/ at the moment/ at which moment/ my right hand/ was holding my left hand/ which was holding the tree/ which was filled with stars/ and the soft rain –/ imagine! imagine!/ the long and wondrous journeys/ still to be ours.

Mary Oliver

“What joy to come!” Spoken by rain falling out of clouds. “Imagine! Imagine! The long and wondrous journeys still to be ours.” What a gift to listen and hear those words. Connecting with nature. Holding hands. Finding joy in rain. Seeing a wondrous journey ahead. Feeling comfort and hope.

Where do I find comfort and hope? How do I understand the beauty of stars and soft rain? What is my soft rain? When do I feel sustained and uplifted?

I love to run in rain. (This is a relatively recent revelation.) Rain soothes. Rain clears. Rain cools. Rain washes. Rain moves. Rain reminds.

If I were going to talk with the rain, here is what I would ask. I would ask about grace and forgiveness. I would ask about storms and survival. I would ask about thirst and growth. I would ask about friendship with the sun and moon. I would ask about seasons and impermanence.