So say there really (I mean literally) was an antediluvian world: a time before the biblical flood when there was no rain. Wouldn’t you want to thank all those sinners for provoking such a turbulent response, such a storm of emotion, that the angels of punishment were ordered to stop holding back the waters of the flood? Wouldn’t you want to thank the sinners and the angels alike for letting rain, something that had never happened before, into the world?
Every leaf and blossom and twig, every natural thing and every thing made by human hands has felt the kiss of rain, the bliss of rain, the touch of consequences forever intermixed with promises. I am just sayin’, I love the rain.

Full Moon in May

The full moon knocked on my window
held a pale finger to his equally pale lips and beckoned me
to cross my threshold and enter his domain
like some kind of reverse vampire rule
where it was not him needing my permission to enter
but him needing to issue an invitation to me.
It is always the granting of the thing which opens
up the veins of possibility and lets the wild magic flow
like blood.
The granting of the thing:
a kiss
a boon
water from your own well
a heel of bread
a moment of warmth in the sun
or by the fire
charges the interaction as well as the ones involved
in the asking and receiving
with all the stirrings of an apocalyptic storm
and any heart that has been barren and dry
is suddenly fertile,
drenched with dew on every branch tip
and with grasses that look to be cut from emeralds
for the shimmering shine of their sheen.
So, for those reasons but also for sudden understanding:
When I saw that the moon was really you,
I opened my heart and followed him
wearing all of the heaven’s stars
on my brow and wrapped
in beams fit for a queen.
— Annette Marie Smith