In counterpoint

I stare at the radar map and wonder about the angry red dots, the look of night out the window, the sump pump cycling in the basement, the thunder and rain.  The pick-up choir sang All Things Bright and Beautiful (one of my favorites) this morning.  I ran up the stairs to the choir loft to join them at the Peace when I read it in the bulletin.  I am still humming it as the thunder echoes outside.

It looks like night outside

Green dim night outside

Thunder and rain roll through

The sound echoes

Echoes

Echoes,

It feels like the end of the world.

It seems they got it wrong

By one weekend.

Hardly anyone was in church

This morning,

Except we sang All Things Bright and Beautiful

In counterpoint

To this.

Maybe we wouldn*t notice

The green dim night,

The build-up of thunder and rain

Maybe we would only hear

That final line:

He has made all things well.