Puddles of Grace

As I sit quietly,
Snug in the warm
I am content to listen,
To the relentless downpour;
Watching as droplets
Collide with the glass
And slide down in rivers
To pool on the grass.

A necessary hindrance
To the tasks of the day
The water collects
And over pedestrians does spray.
Its purpose and importance
So easily forgot
To those of us who live
Where it is less hot.

But to those who live
In the dry, arid lands
And whose breath is sucked out
By the harsh, parched sands,
The droplets of mercy,
That fall from the heavens,
Bring healing and hope
And sustenance to millions.

How much we take for granted
In our lands of plenty
Where food and water’s consumed
And our bellies never empty
Yet we don’t taste the joy
Or feel the pleasure
Of finding puddles of grace
That bring life without measure.

Becca Mayo 2009