The Rains Came

Days of rain seek to settle
 In pastures, cricks, and crawls
Fields transformed and thick with Earth
 Now muddied mires and bogs
Sunshine days 'neath black-hole Sun
 A June this cool design
Four-year drought of dust and rot
 Barbs boast toward the Divine

Each drop a prayer answered slow
 Granted, to be cruel
From miles down to this garden
 The prayers overfill
No yield; this prairie a deluge
 To spawn blood-suck insects
The moon presides over croakéd cries
 Once life begets death

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