A poem for Speed Leas, on his 80th birthday!

Rains have fallen now, this drought over,

Parched lands no longer wearied by the sun.

Easy to forget the rationing of water.

Easy to forget the charring of fields.

What will become of these valleys? we asked.

What will become of us?

Rains have fallen now, green to the valleys again.

Today we praise God for the lovers of rain,

Whose love never tired, through years

Of withering heat, crops unborn, human struggle.

Today we praise God for the lovers of mercy,

Whose mercy is not strained by despair,

Or the disorientation of one drought or another.

Today we praise God for the lovers of earth.

O lovers,

You have watered our hearts, in season and out,

Tending the crusty surface of things,

Believing in seeds we could not see or taste.

O lovers,

You have listened to the grouchy gusts of wind,

Felt the blistering heat on your own face,

Listened without turning, without fear.

You have not wavered in your devotion, compassion,

And you have waited, like a prodigal father,

For the first rains, the falling streams of another baptism.

Green returns to the valleys now, wildflowers

Prance across the hills like dancers on a festal day.

Praise God for you, o lovers of rain,

Who believed in all of this—and will always—

Though other droughts will surely come.