The Rain Maker.
The Rainmaker turned his face towards the sky.
Then on the parched earth he drew a seeing eye
That he could see his place in life’s chain
And ask the spirits to send again rain
To quench the arid plains of her thirst
And fill lakes and rivers that their banks would burst
And levees flood and renew the earth
And waiting seeds would sprout in rebirth.
And the deer and goat will rut again
In faith the plain will be flush with seeded grain
And young will grow there strong and sound
Fat on natures greenness that abounds.
But the eye returns a vision of slow death
The rains will not come upon the plains yet
The scrub will wither and the soil will dry
And the scorching wind take it swirling to the sky.
No corn will grow in the gardens of the clan
The histories of drought scribes will recorded again
The rain maker will dance and chant in vain
As the gods hold back the sweet life giving rain.
© Dave Kavanagh @ daithiocaomanaigh.com