Stand there behind me.
Put your arms 'round
and cup your hands 'neath mine.
I thought to lose a drop
was pure calamity ...
but perhaps real lasting love
is more a sifting than a dam.
The thirsting ground
receives capricious overflow
with eager rising needs.
New greening things can
grow now, watered
with the surplus
of an overflowing cup.
God surely didn't make us perfect
and dawn can brings trials
with the face of a stranger.
But we do grow.
Despite the pain, we can reach
outward and beautifully blossom
in reflection of His splendor.
So hold me close
and with hands growing together.
we'll watch the new growth
burgeon and expand
below as the cascades
of "plenty"
slake our ground.
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