There are rainy Sundays
that allow us to reflect
on our shortcomings and to feel
relieved that we are old enough
not to dwell on disappointments.
In that steady rainfall
there is all the empty space
we need to fill with acceptance,
knowing we have just enough
when rain falls or not, to be content.
Not that street doves in the rain
cease to fill winter air with
their monotonous morning refrain,
content to sing, to wait out
another long gray day of rain.