Liminal rain, gentle raindrops, fall nurturing the earth waking of the spring. So life strength renews and the green returns from this blessed flow. But what of the dead? All these wilted flowers smothered by the frost? Can these dry objects, so fair, bring them back to life? No. There is no hope. Not for all its power. All that it can do is to make more space in its new mainstreams. Wash remains away