Poetry

It had been a hell of spring with the sun hanging scorching,
with nature longing in the flowering season
for the rain that had not come and the days turned over and over
while everything did dry out in record summer temperatures,
while the heat did daily creep higher and higher,
while in the yard flowers and vegetables did continually wither
and on the plains cattle and sheep did die of the drought
while I was still praying for rain to fall
to the God of the universe
and at times the rain did pour down before the heat did come again
in a exhausting summer and I am astounded
that everywhere there still is life,
that buds did appear out of the earth
so as if God was secretly active.