Water and Buds and Lightning Across the Sky

For an hour (maybe it was more or maybe it was less)
I had sat, captivated by the lightning I saw right when I blinked my eye. So I stayed and I watched the branches of the trees become silhouettes while the still-brown leaves of the oak trees rustled in their goodness. Wind through the leaves and the tufts belonging to the geese who just returned home.

Then there was that time, the wind paused and it was silent. A holy silence filled with the many thanks from the trees and the blades of grass still under the soil and the now-calm water on the lake. Thanks given in a million different ways from the millions of different creations around me and I, there, in the midst of it
a witness to this gratitude.
A gratitude filled with trust. Trust that life is being redeemed, it is being made new;
the rain will come.

And when it did come, I, the last of all,
gave my thanks.