Clouds
grow heavy; thunder goes.
Rain drives in from the east, its patter
falls on the sides of the houses. Rain can be destructive,
wiping out boundary marks. But the soil needs care — ecstatic love
has sprouts now, and renunciation. Let the rain feed both.
Only the farmer with intelligence actually brings
his harvest back to his farmyard. He will fill
the granary bins, and feed both the
wise men and the
saints.