The garden drinks greedily from each pulsating spray
washing back and forth in the cool of day’s dawn.
Succulent hostas gather glistening droplets,
cupping them gently to offer a drink to a hovering hummingbird.
Parched, petite blossoms hiding in the shade of heart-shaped leaves
lap eagerly from the cool rivulets sliding down their creases
before this oasis evaporates in the warming sun.
Beneath steaming, musty soil,
hair like roots suck and draw deeply the moisture
left behind from yesterday’s thunder shower,
saturating stems that hope to hold flower heads high
as the sun intensifies and beats down relentlessly.
Morning by morning you hear my prayer O God,
and I wait expectantly for your new mercies to flow over me:
cleansing, refreshing, filling,
quenching my thirsty soul with the water of life.