Dusty wind bent the tired old trees,
Their few remaining leaves turned upside down;
The air smelled of heat and pain.
Long winding river beds slept;
Deep wells drew empty buckets,
While brown grass held tight to cracked soil.

Dark shadows raced to beat the sun,
Churning and rising in power,
Their anger provoked by the dead.
The heavens grew in sorrow,
As thunder boomed from a great distance,
Fuming at the condition below.

The heartland was lost and decimated,
So desperate for living water
It no longer remembered the taste.
The ground shook; the Iight flashed;
The cursed sun swallowed up in wrath,
And the clouds wept.

Behind the lines

On the last day of the feast, the great day, Jesus stood up and cried out, “If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, ‘Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water’ (John 7:37-38).

Spring Rain


A spring rain is falling,
The sky is a strange hue,
There’s flashes of lightning,
And thunder echoes through,
As I sit in my living room.

I look out the window,
Find trees with virgin leaves,
I hear the rain’s rhythm,
Bouncing off different things,
As I sit in my living room.

The TV is not on,
But the forecast is right,
The weather is perfect,
On this glorious night,
As I sit in my living room.

Slow Summer Rain



Leaves like piano keys

bend in the rain

Strange notes are arranged

to relax as they play

Drops dance and gently pop

in pools on the ground

Violent waves grow silent

in streams they have found

Washing and massaging

my ears along their way

A soothing symphony

on a sleepy Saturday.



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