It is pouring.
It is raining.
A time of cleansing—
Little bird is cleaning her wings.

My head is spinning,
My mind is racing:
The blood of Jesus is cleansing.
God’s child is cleaning her wings.

You may not wonder
How the bird flies
But will wonder why your soul cries….

It’s quiet now.
It’s so quiet now.
The rain is gone she is still, she is calm.

Why cleanse your wings?
It’s so calm now….
If you fly on swings
Try to fly anyhow.

If the rain stirs the flight
Then I welcome it

Welcome, rain,
stop my strife.
Take me higher,
make me spotless and bright.

10-27- 2009

Alexandra Mahanaim  (c)

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