LET IT RAIN

 

Early August Morning

 

O Beautiful.

O Morning Star.

O bacon frying in the pan.

And toast and butter.

And scrambled eggs.

Or bowls of milk and cereal.

Fruit and yogurt.

Granola bar.

Wake up, sleepyheads.

Yawn and stretch.

Working men with trucks and trailers.

Tools and equipment.

Livestock.

Linemen.

On the move.

Early risers.

Working women getting ready.

Feed the kids.

Throw clothes in dryer.

Load up the baby.

Hurryhurryhurry.

Nacho’s.

Rico’s.

The OPEN sign beckoning.

Breakfast tacos.

The moon fading.

Sun’s coming up.

Birds break camp.

It’s near the time.

The time.

O majesty.

O miracle.

The darkness dissolves.

Eighteen-wheeler groans through town.

And another and another.

Rooster sounds off in the distance.

Maybe cows in the pasture.

Maybe goats on the hill.

Or a bull by himself.

No rain.

But predicted.

And sorely needed.

As usual.

Teenagers speed down El Paso.

Time for school.

Time for coffee at Keller’s.

Willow Creek Café.

The OPEN sign blinking.

BONG…BONG…says the Courthouse clock…

BONG…BONG…BONG…

Morning regulars stop at GiGi’s

BONG…

BONG.

BONG.

It’s official.

It’s eight o’clock.

And another day closer to rain.

That’s Mason.

Read more poetry!

Renee Walker is a poet, writer, and real estate broker on the Square with her canine assistant, Buster.  

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