Cherity

The rain fell with a certain discontent.
Maybe it was the dehydrated dirt,
Cracking with cramping roots reaching for water.
They were drops of pity for the thirsty ground
And the clouds laughed
As they poured their overabundant supply of water
On the anguished soil.

They watched the desperate drink too fast
And turn to mud
And they watched the mud stick to the soles
Of walkers boots,
Only to be scraped off on the “Welcome”
Mats of their homes.

The clouds played a dirty trick.
As the sun reappeared
And the clouds retreated
To their polished kingdoms,
They sucked the water back
From the ground
Sweeping away
And leaving the dirt with
Only memories of puddles.