Much of our country is experiencing drought conditions. Those of us in upstate New York began seeing the portentous signs these past two weeks: green grass slowly turning straw-colored in patches, and flowers, though not yet withered, looking thirsty. Some of us with wells talked about water conservation, which meant vegetable and flower gardens were not getting their needed quota of moisture. And for some with shallow wells, short showers became the norm.
Just two days ago, on a hot, sun-drenched day, feeling more like desert than mountains as if an infrared camera filter had been cast over our landscape, I spotted a Mother Doe and her fairly new born fawns on my lawn. I actually saw them about a week ago when their legs still wobbled and Mother Doe was cleaning these new beings of her birth. Alas, I was on my morning walk sans my camera and miffed at myself for leaving it behind. Mother Doe visited my front lawn frequently since the birth of her twins, and I made no time to grab my camera and take pictures. However, she took time the other day to stand and stare at me as if to say are you not going to take advantage of taking this image? Again, my camera was buried in my bag and while I ran for it, I really did not think she would still be there. But she was! Standing just a few feet from her and her babes, I took the picture. She was proud, and though I have never heard of a doe giving birth to twins, I have seen this wondrous thing. And, I do believe she knew it was special and wanted to have someone record it for her.
My own critters, Ella and Simon, approached this momentous event very differently. Ella took her position half way up the staircase so she could clearly observe Mother Doe and the twin fawns, while Simon simply slept through it all nestled between the window sill and an old Czechoslovakian oak bench. His favorite post.
Today, I woke to sprinkles of rain, then an intermittent drizzle, and finally a steady soft soaking rain. This was a Christening of the land and I was lulled into contentment with the ‘innocent speech of rain.” Rather than take a picture through the wet screen and spattered glass window, I decided to write a poem.
the innocent speech of rain
by lee anne morgan
Burdened by soft steady rain,
viridian leaves hang low on long limbs.
Some moisture clings — leaves glisten silver;
some moisture falls — a rain sonata.
A lone bird (unknown) sings her aria.
In one ordinary moment,
all flow to some changed place,
become some new thing
I know I have said this before, as have others, but it is okay for me to say it again. The small events of our days are more often than not gently touched with Grace, even miracles.