Rain

I wish that it would rain (and remain),
for all things beneath the sun have become scorched
and cracked and listless.
I wish that it would rain (and remain),
for as the thunder above rolls across the land and we
look up for it, we only find ourselves belittled
and shrunken by it; so infinitesimal.

I wish that it would rain (and remain),
for then the winds would howl and the
leaves would tether in it and speak out in their chants
and murmurs, and all would be one and in unison
and together and strong and so real. . .

Unlike beneath the sun. . .
unlike that which is dry and alone,
desperate and forgotten. . .
Life being so fast and so hostile.

And so it is time and I pray for rain,
for it never to desist, unabading and as
flowing as the endless river it feeds.
I beckon for rain. . .
Nourish our lands, replenish our soils,
save our souls.
Rain. .
Rain. .
Rain. . .

ATS
5/29/95