The rain at 10 p.m. last Sunday night
concluded days unsettled, gray, and wet.
I stepped outside to savor sound and sight,
and looking up, I noted heaven’s net
of stars – amid the drizzle shone the belt
and sword Orion wears, and slightly east
there hung the moon at full. At that I felt
the boons of my existence like a feast.

I’ve obstacles and nettles in my path,
but I can walk with stamina and spine.
My worries are without resentment, wrath,
or railing. Life’s an analog design:
My dial spins to miracle from pain,
like moon and stars illuminating rain.