Small Town

Small Town

In a small town,
all the doors to homes and businesses
were closed.

No one was out walking the streets—
even the traffic signals flickered,
a steady red on, off, on and off.

The church bells began to chime
at the same moment
the thunder struck.
Rain fell on this small town.

Suddenly, a window opened,
another was pushed out
followed by another.

A tiny hand reached out to
capture a drop.
This act was mimicked by
another small hand
reaching out from another window.

A game seemed to ensue.
‘Who would gather the most drops?’
Was there any significance?

Then, someone  wandering the streets,
‘arrived.’  Deluged by the storm, the 
hooded figure walked on.

The small hands gathering drops
seemed to know this stranger.
Out of their homes, the children came.

They approached the stranger.
Extending their hands,
they offered up the drops collected.

With glee, the stranger smiled and spoke,
“You understand, gathering drops of rain
is like speaking a prayer
without words.
We can change the world,
gathering drops of rain
to wash what needs to be healed.”

When the storm ceased,
countless buckets of water
were outside each establishment.
A few extra were in
the town center…
tiny creatures had come to sip and
had no fear.

The children left,
each one walking back to
their home.

The stranger vanished—
not a word spoken
but, a path made of drops
was visible beyond the town.