His eyes on the horizon,
For a sign, he searches
A wisp, a puff of black, he needs
Some rains for his parched senses
His arid soul, a barren land
Cries out in pitiful agony,
Needing to revive, in vibrant green
A land, now pallid, dead and stony.
At last, God relents, gives in
and opens his heart, gives birth,
He provides in abundance, at last some rain
To quench the thirst of a dying earth.
He fills with a misty gleam,
The morning hours, now so pleasing
Life flowers, awakens, like a dream...
a heavenly scene, beautiful, teasing...