Water Witches
 
It is raining!
It is raining!!
It is as if my blood refused to run.
Lost its place, but now it has found
the route again.  Once again, it pulses
through my arteries and veins.  Rivers
join rivers, silently mouthing Eureka.  
Drugs me for a spell into forgetting
those whom rain stuns by sheeting
days, weeks, even months, shutting
down power and chilling spines.  
Just will not stop until water dislodges
houses, trees, signs, and every sign of life
between, then carries off all it can.
For now,  biblical floods seem far, far
away.  Been too long!  Thirst too great!
My tongue could not stop angling
for a drop.  If not a drop, an atom,
a molecule.  Or just the shine!
The evidence said that Earth was wasting
away.  Birds drilled to the bottom
of planters and the cores of trees
that were thick and hard as the gate
to paradise, only to end up with dull
beaks.  Deer trained themselves
to spot a dripping faucet a county
away.  Flowers called impatiens
are among the great water lovers.
Swear I could hear the rasp of
their dying voices  begging.   Restricted
from watering, and anyway, it was them
or me.  Well could give out!    Worse
for many.  Who could bear to farm?   
Who can bear to be us, I sometimes
wonder.  But it was dry -- we were --
and now it is raining.
It is raining!!
It is raining!!!

(c) Phyllis Jean Green, October, 2007