-This poem reflects on spring rain at the window, and the quiet way it fills both the world and the inward self with calm renewal.
Rain gathers softly at the glass,
a silver hush on wood and pane,
each drop a small and shining pause,
held briefly in the listening light.
Beyond the window, branches move,
the garden darkens into green,
and every leaf receives the day,
through this slow blessing from the sky.
Inside, the room grows still and kind,
the quiet deepens with the rain,
as if the world outside had found,
a gentler way to enter in.
Nothing blooms within these walls,
yet something opens all the same,
the heart made calm by water’s touch,
the spirit washed in tender sound.