Thursday, June 7, 2018

THE GOD OF RAIN/imaginary gardens with real toads


Rain is as common 
To our world 
As the sun 
That rises 
Each morning

Yet, sometimes
Many days, months…
Even years pass
Rain doesn’t come
Clouds form on the horizon
The sky a lovely shade of grey
The day passes
As dry as bleached bones
Laying on the desert flour

The First people
Have ceremonies
To bring rain
They sing and dance
Shake their rattles and prey

Rain makes everything
An adventure
Cross the street
On slippery pavement
Jumping puddles

Meeting a lover
Cozy inside
Safe and warm
Knowing the God of Rain
Has cried for his people

June 7, 2018

1 comment:

Sherry Blue Sky said...

I love the references to the First People in this poem. I can feel the dryness, like bleached bones in the desert, and then the blessing of rain.

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