ELECTRIC STORM
Corn fields heated like boiling glass
Steamy ammonia and ripening corn
Dogs lie prostrate and panting
In the shade of a dying tree
The rain won't come when you want it
The sun only comes when you hate it need it dread it
But that changes today
And here it changes
Here comes the rain
Thunder cants the poetry of sorrow
Rain on tin roof
Sobs the inarticulate language of despair
Light in farmhouse coming on
In weary counterpoint
To a sky turned the color of night
Thunderhead glowers over the field
Cattle lowing piteously before it
Supplicant savages beseeching
An angry, capricious god
Gloomy summer rain more depressing
Than a flint colored winter day
When the earth is like iron
And all you want
Is to go inside
Death and Dying seem to be a running theme; like bad food not good for the soul.
This type of thinking is very interesting can see where the American Indians would have been provoked into thinking magic would help solve seemingly helpless situations. This would have created the rain dance. We, however, are much more advanced with our thinking and know bouts of drought are part of the weather make up of our world. Good rune
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