after prayers,petitions,Bastrop fires,drums and rain dances
every secular Buddhist begging bowl open and hoping
splats and counted drops dotted windshields
clouds gathered ,with dark portents...finally
rain entered our visible visual vocabulary
I put the rain buckets out when the rain barrels were full
i stood in the wet to make sure none was lost
The new seeds we planted are now wet with promise
They will rise like people's power once liquidity allows us
Rain remains as a topic of conversation..
Drought still thirsty as blackened earth gulps
Cyclic this may be,we are insecure
Our hold on this earth still bare bones burials
Will water float us in to the other worlds
or will flood and fire Robert Frost the end of all?