Through Storm and Drought

We seemed to run a gauntlet
on our jaunt back from northeast Kansas,
the run of the road somehow
taking us through the seams of storms
rising up in the summer heat.

A few sprinkles spattered the windshield
from time to time
as we skirted the fringes
of a line of deep red clusters forming
from Oklahoma to Nebraska.

A bit east of Emporia
a long low rainbow showed faintly
against the curling blue
of yet another cell
passing through the plains.

Riding up toward the long ridge,
we saw a series of stacked white rumblings
rising up above the Flint Hills,
their miles of rolling folds as green as spring
on the last Sunday of August.

A great herd of beef
speckled the banks of a distant pond,
bits of red and white,
black and brown sloping down to the water,
shoulder deep in brome and prairie grass.

Even storms can bring blessings,
a harsh caressing that dims the memories
of dry-stemmed summers
that splintered into brown winters
and seemed to last for years.

In all seasons
there is reason to give thanks
and pray for mercy.

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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