Tree on a Rainy Sunday
Silver wet tree has drawn me near.
Raindrops and tears anoint my face,
washing me fresh inside and out:
this is a sacrament today.
Gray green on grey, the feathered leaves,
lightly attached, are free to swirl,
wafting elusive cleansing tang:
this is soul remedy today.
Touching the trunk, I flinch at scars,
slashes some heedless ego made,
yet strength and grace remain unmarred:
this is life wisdom shared today.
Though I am small beside such height,
eyes raised to sky, I feel akin,
stirred by uplifted rain glossed limbs:
this is a tender bond today.
Tree met with me in this small park.
Some kind of loving happened here.
Some kind of worship raised a prayer:
“Thanks be to God for rain and tree!”
Barbara Messner 27/10/2026
