Revival

 

Hot, powdery dry.

Identical days

Piled on days

Stacking up like

Parched mud pies,

Or withered dog waste,

Or dust-dry flowers

Long after the prom.

And then it came.

Lying open to the tree

That has co-opted the sun

In our back yard

The drops fell

Deliberately,

Pushing back the

Frantic pace of gravity.

My face gathered

The tears of unfiltered, giddy joy

Offered by the unseen

Giver of life.