Dry Summer, a poem by Carl Parsons at Spillwords.com
Max Larochelle

Dry Summer

Dry Summer

written by: Carl Parsons


The rain that fell during the dry summer,
was its herald the pronged flash of angels?
The autos passing on the country road
spouted up the waters as from deep wells;
but when the thunder shuddered through the sky,
it seemed like boulders dropped from distant hills.

In the space of a single night the rain
broke in sprays of light, flaming off the lake,
as the morning sun stroked the water bright.
But when we awoke and found the earth baked
as before, we touched the dust of each
other’s faces and felt how sorrow’s shaped.

That jagged fire behind those distant hills—
was it prophecy of angels who wept?
For they knew as surely as we, when the
lightening snapped, the awful secret we kept.

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