The dark roiling sky churns for hours, refusing
The sky flashes lightning, igniting a barn, but refusing
The hard earth shrinks, and like a web across the field,
The dust, the stalks lie open under the clouds, almost as if
straining with hope.
Drops fall, singly, scattered, from clouds
bloated with rain.
Then the dark clouds quiet, pull apart,
Again the sun spreads its heat, blazing across the cloudless sky,
almost as if laughing.