Palms up and waiting
eyes closed for the rain to fall,
fingertips tingling and
licked lips tasting the moist air,
a harsh breath in.
Is it H2O we're waiting for,
something to quench the drought
and to rinse off last night's dust?
That liquid gold most valuable
inside and outside of the trappings of
human skin?
Or is it the sky green, silver lining,
pieces of metal and smiling presidents -
fluttering and tinking to celebrate victory,
filling purses and fixing broken bodies like
armor against piercing poverty?
Cry out Make it rain! to gods or another man,
bring the showers,
pour down
rain.
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