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  lightning played at the edge of the day

  distant thunder promised a better future

  but still we were held in thrall by the sun

  past promises had withered with the grasses

  dried up with the small ponds

  and still wet heat a seamless blanket

  smothered activity

  the land made tired by the drought

  but the thunder quickened

  and the lightening fed on the sunset

  the sweet, hard rain fell

  on the upraised face of the waiting earth

  the sounds of water on the roof

  filled my ears with new secrets and happy songs

 - Ken Peters


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