She sees rain coming
like a pillar of smoke, gliding across the west field,
a cloud bursting full, the air already moist,
pots of mint stirring in the window,
finches tucked away under the porch eaves.
Wind rushes through the open parlor door,
knocks over the jar of tiger lilies without breaking glass.
Water drips to pine floor planks.
She pulls off her apron, stops at the prone lilies,
hand raised recalls the reverend’s picture of the wife of Lot,
the woman who looked back,
then turned in to the salt that begins to seep from her own eyes.
How could she not look back?
~Lonnie Hull DuPont “She Sees Rain Coming” from She Calls the Moon by Its Name 

All morning with dry instruments
The field repeats the sound
Of rain
From memory
And in the wall
The dead increase their invisible honey
It is August
The flocks are beginning to form
I will take with me the emptiness of my hands
What you do not have you find everywhere
~W.S. Merwin “Provision”

Eve bites the apple

It begins to oxidize
~Xueyan, Time Peels All to Original White

My mistakes can’t be hidden once I take the bite and realize what I have done. There is no going back, retrieving harsh words spoken, asking for a re-do, or wishing things had worked out differently.

When I’m wrong, I must admit it and not look back. I come with empty hands, realizing what I have to give is meager indeed. All I have is my regret and sorrow, and that is all God needs to take my hand so it is no longer empty.

What I do not have, what I do not know, what I cannot be on my own — I will find in Him, and He is suddenly everywhere I look.