on faith
2 Corinthians 4: 7-12 the month before the rains come, there are bright yellow flowers, bursting from the bare-branched Cortéz, going about the Lord's work evangelizing: they shout color to the creatures surviving in desolate places the month before the rains come, thorny michigüiste limbs soften— sharp teething buds unspiral to reveal burgeoning leaves with pink-fuzz edges to shelter sun-weary cattle herds from the scorching the month before the rains come, there are guanacaste seeds, swelling in their pods, while the hot wind shakes them down and leaves nothing behind but clear, empty skies and the cracked earth crying out, open-mouthed and full of dust the month before the rains come, the first flota since the new year arrives: marañones and mangos tamarindos and aguacates, fruits flowered, set and ripened during these unforgiving dry season days the month before the rains come, there are a few hard-pressed ones perplexed ones, struck-down ones, who lavishly lay the table for feasting, shower strangers like me with so many clay-kissed treasures— where do they get it all from? oh, that wearying month before the rains comes, can you see the signs? isn't that life at work in death, bringing forth abundance? no hoarded wealth of water withheld no signs of penny-pinching sweetness creation gives and gives and gives the month before the rains come




What a great repetition, and theme, and ending, Sarah - love your poetry!
HERMOSO!!! aguacates & mangos, mis favoritos siempre