Rustlin' the old cactus tree,
Limbs stretched to the sky
Together, their prayer rises on high.
The wind rattling ashes
As sheet lightning flashes,
Oh, God, make it stop!
Send us rain, if only a drop!
The breeze becomes a wind
Slithering over brush, like it was its kin.
The burnin' sky quittin never,
And fireblooms stretchin' out forever
Yet that snake is windin'
In heat that's is almost blindin',
Oh, God, make it stop!
Send us rain, if only a drop!
In the clouds I see horses,
Running their courses,
Their hooves striking sparks,
Their weary throats parched
With no lick of water, from morning 'till dark.
Oh God, make it stop!
Send us rain if only a drop!
I listen to the wrinkled cactus,
My throat so dry it's like to bust
I want to pray along with the wind and it,
But I can't utter a word, hell, I can't even spit!
Oh God, make it stop!
Send us rain, if only a drop!
Published by Mary Naylor confirmed
I was born in Chicago, Illinois in 1933. I grew up in Rhinelander, Wisconsin, a wild and beautiful state, rich in literature and lore. I loved the stories of Paul Bunyon and his ox, Babe. The hoax of t... View profile
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3 Comments
Post a CommentThis is awesome, Mary! I love the imagery....And I will miss ARTME, too (I want you to know she sent my wife some beautiful gifts, just because she knew they'd make her feel better! She will indeed be missed).
Thank you Artme, I'll miss you.
I just wanted to say Good-Buy Mary Love Mary , Great poem