Communion

Rain falls in droves

playing notes on our roof —

a winter concerto.

Rivers rise in the valley

a gurgling hum —

the end of drought.

Snow hisses into steam

and lichen crawls up the

fingering limbs of

leafless aspen.

Waterfalls rocket from the hills

and fog pours from the trees as

the dripping wonderland cradles us

in white noise.

I want the storm

to tear away our roof.

I want to hold you —

everyone — in my arms

as spring leaves upshoot.

I want our hardwood floor

to turn to springy earth.

Rain doesn’t wash away

the past — we must regrow

Eden atop of it.