The air rises around me,
hot and smothering,
trees wilt.

The grass on berm and bank
is dry and stiff,
the color of despair.

The leaves of locust
hang brown and lifeless,
August come to June.

It will take more
than a single shower
to turn all of this

back into green.

It will take a deeper refreshing,
a more meaningful change,
something more pure and powerful:

like what brings hope into night,
light into darkness,
caring into numbness.

It will take the hand of God.

H. Arnett
7/3/12