Morning in Late Summer

Have you ever stood outside
in the gray morning
as the first drops of cool rain
begin to fall on your warm skin
in the humidity of late summer?
A flock of black birds
crowds onto a small patch of your
neighbor’s yard. The trees
above you receive, gladly, the soft
pats of rain on their hands
while the house sings quietly under
its touch.
Have you been unable to stop the smile—
oh, what makes you smile—
as you clutched to your heart
the bright shafts of sunlight
which you plucked from the weeds
alongside the ditch?

If so, then I know you have tasted
what is hidden in a single moment,
you have extracted joy from eternity
while breathing in a temporary world,
and you know what a gift it is.