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Rainmaker

Hot heat rising, 

shimmering, undulating

above parched earth,

a barren landscape.

Fissures fan out and

cracks form mazes.

A lone tumbleweed sits

unmoving in the still.

In the distance, a 

lone figure appears.

Watched carefully 

by one who is hidden.

Lithe strides punctuate 

the dead, worn road,

puffs of dust falling

back off well-worn heels.

He draws nearer, clearer.

Broad shoulders, sturdy limbs

blue eyes cool and calm.

A long, tall drink of water.

He knocks softly at first.

Then a bit more firmly.

The door opens.

"I am the Rainmaker."

She takes his hand

pulling him into her heart.

Bewitching, restoring sprinkles

of love begin to fall.

d.s. hill ©