Praise the summer, with its
endless drought. How you’d rather
revile it, change it, pray
for the world to be another way.
Praise the sky, relentlessly clear,
and the dry field that crunches
beneath your feet.
You dream of green, dream
of laughing in the rain, dream
of puddles and the thin river
rising. But praise the scarcity,
how it teaches you what
you would rather not know—
how fragile the balance,
how every drop matters,
how lucky it is
to grow.