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The clicking sound of irrigation

Awakens my imagination;

The noise passersby alerting

To be aware that water’s squirting.

The trunks of trees are getting cleaner,

While on the ground the grass gets greener.

The grownups give each hose wide berth

So all that fluid will hit the earth

And not their hair and clothes and shoes.

Getting wet gives adults blues.

But children run into the spray;

They see it as a place to play.

They don’t object to getting drenched;

Dignity’s not in them entrenched.

How I love their squeals of laughter!

The joy of watching them stays after

They’ve all gone inside to dry.

And then I start to wonder why

I so resist the Spirit’s rain

That seeks to freshen me again.

My soul spends time just gathering dust

Because I lack in child-like trust.

“The thing that’s proper” blinds my eyes

And can my “God thirst” paralyze.

Lord, let my dignity go crashing

And in Your springs of joy go splashing!

With abandon, into Your river

I throw myself, Great Blessing Giver.


Wayne West

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