enliven the mute

...sing praise upon the harp unto our God:
who covereth the heaven with clouds,
who prepareth rain for the earth...
psalm 147:7-8

storm clouds paint the heavens
with a myriad of charcoal balloons.
the skies groan with their pregnancy
like my body groans to take flight.
the curt gray pier's edge
reminds my feet not to plunge in attempt.
stimulating wind breathes into my hair
with the smell of winter
and the taste of spring.
all is black and white here.
here, i plead my Father for color and joy.
a lone raindrop replies,
cleansing the murky tears from my eyes ashamed.
consolation descends with a multitude of messengers.
like drums and cymbals, they beat the harbor.
the sooty opaque costume of pinebluff lake
is shredded by the silver rain
to reveal its royal blue belly.
each cascade rings, like a harp,
merriment from the water's strings.
i dance – my mournful insides feel a shout of orchids.
my sooty eyes opening sea-green once again.
my voice, the harp, clouds, and rain
shall sing praise unto our Lord.