I do not at all understand the mystery of grace – only that it meets us where we are but does not leave us where it found us.
~ Anne Lamott
for a brief moment early spring rain ceases,
the sun breaks through
grey sky...
threads of gold
thin enough to pierce the forest,
glitter on dewdrops...
bows to brilliance,
where everything arrogant
takes off its shoes
to stand on holy ground.