When rain falls,
sometimes we are standing
in the low spot where it pools--
And fills our galoshes
So that we slosh with each step.
And when we peer into the puddles
The image of us keeps changing.
Yet while we are looking down
At the flood rising to our knees,
The sky before us has forgiven all--
And is busy painting pretty promises
Of light and hope which we must
Look up to see.

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