We had our first thunderstorm last night. I’d forgotten how much I love falling asleep to rain.
This morning, we opened the windows to let in the soft sweet air. It makes me feel alive again hearing the birds sing. Spring can’t come soon enough.
It reminds me of a poem I wrote several years ago. It was our first spring as newlyweds. I sat by the sliding glass door in our first apartment, watching the birdies hop in the sweet showers, feeling inspired and (very caffeinated).
An April Morning
It’s a morning in mid-April—
The first that I can open wide the door,
Which has through winter’s icy reign been bolted shut.
The rain has come a-tapping.
Refreshing earth with gentle showers sweet,
Inhaled with startled breath as thunder sounds.
The dazèd oaks with quiet boughs,
Are set a-buzz with little buds and birds,
With clumsy voices, singing hymns of life.
A sweeping wind—and I’m convinced,
That somewhere lies beyond from whence the spring is brought,
From Him who sends redemptive breath to earth and so to me.
@ 2026 Christa P. Shepherd
I hope that spring finds you wherever you are!
Thanks for reading,
Christa
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