The Next Dry Spell

The rain is falling gently,

cleansing the air, the ground

and my soul.

I’ve just experienced an awfully dry season,

both inside and out.

I need nourishment that only a

cool, long drink of water

can provide.

Slow, gentle drops,

sinking in,

filling up my reservoir

for the next dry season.

And so it is, Lord.

digging deep,

I immerse myself in Your words.

I hang onto the last stanza

of a worship song,

offering up praise to You.

I hug my family and friends

just a little tighter than usual

during our goodbyes.

Treasuring, storing and preparing

for the next dry spell

that shall surely come.

by

Delores Brouillette Adams

 

(Psalms 45:1) To the Chief Musician. Set to “The Lilies.” A Contemplation of the Sons of Korah. A Song of Love. My heart is overflowing with a good theme; I recite my composition concerning the King; My tongue is the pen of a ready writer.