A Chance of Rain

All day long,
the long gray clouds
have kept rolling in,
drifting across the dry face
of northeast Kansas,
a perpetual feeling
that it could start raining
at any moment.

From the upstairs window,
I see the browning fringe
of patches in the pasture
where the grass is passing
from growing to dying.

In mid-afternoon,
a few showers and sprinkles
trickle dark spots
on concrete and bare ground,
but not enough to wet the dirt.

That night,
mist steams from the earth
in the breezeless air,
rises from the bottomland,
lifting to the top of the bluff.
A full moon sets a ruffled glow
showing through the clouds,
a vague and veiled testimony
like the hazy kiss of fog against the face.

I am growing more comfortable
in knowing more than I can explain;
I do not have to define its shape or plane
to know that there is a Light
breaking through the lying clouds
of this dry earth.

H. Arnett

About Doc Arnett

Native of southwestern Kentucky currently living in Ark City, Kansas, with my wife of twenty-nine years, Randa. We have, between us, eight children and twenty-eight grandkids. We enjoy singing, worship, remodeling and travel.
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