Rain and there is no giving up 
moss, thank you God—the green
music of June, the rushing creek
timbre of cooling stones. All day,
you know, I could too—bit
of the day on the rough edge
of prayer to cool a boulder
of worry. Hmm. Wrens busy
the morning wailing a little
joy here, summer faithful
Blue Jays cache seeds
for later. Smart. How long
will I be here for this? Noticing.
Worry. Prayer? The great green.