51: Flood

There was a time in our village when life stood still, those

Days are now lost. There was a girl, a former resident, whose

Name I’ve long forgotten. She lived near the dam quietly with

Her aunt and two cousins. She sat on the porch just to knit

And gaze at cloudy weather. You see, our village hasn’t seen

Rain in years and our wells have all run dry. For months it seems

A cloud just lingers above taunting us with the chance of a shower.

We’ve tried at times reach up and tear it if only we had the power.

This girl had told me once about the possible end of droughts.

“You pray in vain, just wait for rain and it will wash you out”

So time and time I stood and sat. I’ve patiently waited since

A spit. Perhaps a sprinkle,  thorough wash or maybe just a rinse

To quench the dry earth. A drizzle began when I started to sleep.

I jumped out of bed in the morning and got soaked to the knees.

The window showed much for me to see, puddles as vast as the seas

Treetops waved at my feet. Oh how these waters run deep!

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