Three nights ago, the wind blew with fervor,
And red brown dust darkened the air,
I watched close my porch, a keen observer,
By dawn, not a drop landed there.
Two nights ago, Zeus’s chariot rolled,
As flash after spark lit the night,
Thunder shook, it promised, it told,
Of rain still absent by first light.
Last night, I could feel it in chest and bones,
My nose filled with Nature’s rutting,
She teased, till I prayed to Maiden and Crone,
On blue skys the sun woke strutting.
Tonight my ears with an Oracle fill,
A sweet song to this desert rat,
The first cicada buzzes on my sill,
A concert of hundreds, heavy and fat.
A prophecy made by that droning sound,
Whispers in the dark a promise,
By the next day’s twilight, rain will be found,
Believe, and don’t be a Thomas.