When the searing blue of Eastern skies

Day after day does not wane

And the cotton mounds of nimbus white

Refuse to release their rain

Red-rimmed eyes seek hard for storms

Storms of hope on canvassed skies

But no rain washes, and roots dig down

Deeper and down to where the lifeline lies

When on the horizon of my soul’s small world

The skies are bright with heat

No storms press piling with thunderous roar

Yet joy and dreams dare not meet

Thirsty I rove with rain hungry eyes

Seeking to break the long drought’s spell

But no rain comes and to live I must

Dig deeper and down in that Living Well.

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