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Posts Tagged ‘drought’

After the Drought

 

 

even my worry

decides to kick off its shoes

and play in the rain—

forgetting for a moment

its soggy gray socks

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in the relentless drought,

finding inside me

a pond somehow still present,

an unstoppable,

insistent spring

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In the red mud, in the muck,

in the day’s surplus of luck,

the sudden rains make flood of wish

and fill the road with detritus

and we are stranded where we are

the roads all closed, and still, I hear

inside, some voice, insistent,

chanting More, more.

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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.

 

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On the divide

the corn lilies

yellow as if

it were autumn,

their leaves

brittling too soon,

like lovers

surprised during

the honeymoon

to find there is

just not enough

to keep things

alive. Such a short

time ago

they believed

just a smile

could open

the whole sky.

How I long

to be wrong

about them.

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Dry December

 

 

 

Winter, this year,

like the dream

in which I must

call someone

but I cannot

remember who

it is, only

how important

that I call.

 

When I wake,

I walk to the phone,

but waking

brings me no

closer to remembering.

 

Off the porch,

the pansies

wear plum

and gold—

there is summer

in their softness.

 

I stare at them.

Who is it

I am supposed

to call? And

what has happened

to winter?

 

The sky

turns a bluer

shade of blue.

The pansies

nod. Whatever

they know,

they’re not telling.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Unfinished Song

 

 

 

Tonight, I love you

the way the sky loves the moon,

the way trees

love their leaves,

the way loss

loves minor tunes.

 

Tonight, I love you

just as the sea loves the waves,

just as blooms

love their Junes,

just as welcomes

love doorways.

 

Don’t you hear

there’s a question in the air

and it smells like rain,

the rain that’s yet to come.

 

Can’t you hear

there’s a humming in the air

and it smells like rain,

the rain that’s yet to come.

 

Tonight, I love you

the way the earth loves the rain,

the way jazz

loves pizzazz

the way mornings

love champagne.

 

Tonight, I need you

the way the rain needs the sky,

the way blue

needs light, too,

the way questions

need their whys.

 

Don’t you hear

there’s a question in the air

and it smells like rain,

the rain that’s yet to come.

 

Can’t you hear

there’s a wonder in the air

and it smells like rain,

the rain that’s yet to come.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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It is not only that the desert longs for water.
Of course the water longs for desert, too.
Any raindrop can fall and get lost in an ocean,
but to fall where it’s parched, where just
the smallest amount of wet can launch a hundred
hundred blooms, can set ten thousand thousand
seeds into frothy flight, oh. Now that is something
worth falling for. No imaginary desert. The real thing,
all prickle and spine and thorn and barb.
And the petals after. The heat can spend months
holding off just the briefest sprinkle. But then
no one said it was going to be easy, this going
where we’re needed most. Patience is the marriage
of sweetness and sting. To bring life one must also be alive.

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Two Almosts

rain falls
like shooting stars, one drop
to wish on

*

sure it’s shiny
but don’t get close enough to sniff—
barracuda flower

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not for days
not for weeks
not for years
has rained
oh the dust
the dust
on everything
that leaf
that stone
this heart
what just one rain
would do,
I think
knowing
even as
I shake
my hands
at the sky
that I
am
the rain

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