Yawning, aching, I stumble out of bed
reluctant to face the day.
Fog, gray as a mouse, lingers,
shrouding dawn’s wistful light.
Ah…now I remember; we’ve had bad news.
Summoning my will I reach for the Book
and scramble through familiar passages,
longing for a word, a ray of light this dark morning.
At last a glimmer. I read:
He will come to us like the rain;
like the spring rain, watering the earth.
And I go from dreading clouds
to longing for rain.