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.
Love feels no burden, thinks nothing of trouble, attempts what is above its strength, pleads no excuse of impossibility . . . though weary, it is not tired . . . though alarmed, it is not confounded . . .