Every year as the first flush of spring the rains came,
And with their gentle fall on the hard desert ground
The memory of both.
The rain from heaven as the light from heaven,
‘Do not fear’, ‘blessed are you’, 'highly favoured’
A fear in joy.
And all those years ago, she couldn’t know,
Could never have imagined, such joy, such fear.
The hard ground below His feet, His face, His falls
The hardness of His face like flint, set upon the cross
A hardness in light.
And all those years later, only by His help
Could any bear such sorrow, such a sword,
Only she alone, like unto His sorrow.
And even after He rose, and even before she rose with Him
Each year, the early spring sun, the early spring rain
The early spring lilies, to laugh, to cry, to feast, to fast?
Today. Just for a day.
[This one’s dedicated to anybody who doesn’t know what to do when the Solemnity of the Annunciation falls within Lent. It’s not an answer. I know my answer, but I’m not telling.]