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1. Form: Free Verse/Theme: Indulgence

Singing those praises in church,
I see a vision of a parched earth.
Geosmin scent ascends;
or descends. Transference
between reality and surreality.

My mind is soaked in soil microbes,
no shower sensation in sight.

Today it might rain; or not.
Sunday, I’ll be praising in church,
whether, or not, we get relief;
but there will be comforting
amidst the suffering; or not.

Can you tell, Georgia needs rain?
Our birds crave it. My lillies lay in wait
to relieve the scorch of Summer heat.

I am conditioned with air, but
I need to hear the rain
and smell the petrichor ‘plash.

For that I’ll accept the invitation
to sit on my screened-in deck,
hopefully hear the roar of thunder,
and the whooshing wind
through the plush leaves,
as the treasures of heaven,
fall like silver coins, to make mud.


2. Form: Rhyme/Theme: Indulgence

Sing chorus of reality;
A parched sur’ality.
From the dry earth, a scent ascends;
Geosmin scent descends.

In soil microbes, my mind awoke,
tempting shower, a soak.
Where rainfall’s sensation is bliss,
The serpent-earth’s amiss.

Today the rain might fall; or not -
Our suffering; or not.
In church, we will be still and praise -
Weather or not, we’ll praise.

I think you know, Georgia needs rain.
The birds crave its refrain.
Relieve the scorch of Summer heat.
My lillies wait for beat.

Air-conditioned, am I, but I
Am longing drench, not shy.
I wish to smell the petrichor -
A splash of rain, adore.

To hear the roar of thunder-speak;
The whooshing wind, this week.
Heaven’s treasures pour out and sud
And mix the silver’d mud.

I’ll sit on deck and marvel at
The rush of leaves, the splat;
Splish-splosh and churning soil to cure
Descend, ascend, endure.

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