After the rain

What if one morning when the coverlet of rain recedes and the sun offers it’s fiery feathers on the white altar of a gardenia,

you were to discover that you are not what you seem to be?

What if you were to believe
deep in your heart that you are a spirit divinely dressed in a cloak of humanity here on earth for 70 or 80 years to bless everyone you meet with heavenly love?

What if this were your only intention simple and true?

Oh how the meadowlark, cardinal, and field sparrow would play the blue lute of the sky.

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