sabbath rain

There’s no telling when

this will end—

the sound of snapping

fingers beyond measure

and cadence,

crisp

dropping small loud kisses

on flapping leaves

and bending grass

while eaves

creak from water’s smack—

crack concrete pride,

slide to soil beneath

the hardened heart—

inside, my hearth

is a single candle flame

while outside God rests

in water too vast

and small to track,

falling,

falling,

falling,

with no hour appointed

for mercies indeterminate.

Let these raindrops tarry,

tap your foot in time

for the swelling sky—

the cloud sends her children

to the aged earth

with no plan but play—

let there be human silence

for such divine music

when Sabbath rains.

There is no telling when

Sabbath rain

a poem by troy cady