Love Mist

It starts with a drop or two,
Caught in the catcher's mitt of a Maple Leaf.
Then another and another,
Until the mitt turns to pitcher
And pours its alms upon the ground,
Where the contributions of other tithers
Have been collected.
Then down the droplets march,
Single file,
Into the great vault of the earth.
After proper purification services are held,
The congregation is dismissed,
Into well springs of nature's hope,
Into the open places,
Streaming, rushing,
Toward the great rivers.
Refreshing the earth as it passes

In like fashion,
Love drops slowly sprinkle upon us.
A drop here and there,
Hardly noticeable,
Until they amass
First in the tiny, hidden places
Of our soul,
Then, poured out,
To sink deep within us,
Into our very heart.
Accruing and collecting
Until love brims over,
Spilling out from every pour,
Engulfing us.
Bringing cooling
Living water
To our parched lives

Capriccio Arabe for Guitar by Francisco Tárrega