The pastor talks about Noah on Sunday.
They say the river is rising again.
Half the town's already moved to higher ground.
He talks about Noah again the next Sunday.
The weathermen continue to predict rain.
The bridges are closed now and still the river rises.
The pastor talks about Noah,
the river rushes through the streets,
climbing ever closer to the church.
He talks about Noah, he talks about boarding the ark, he reminds us of the rainbow.
The church is closed next week.
Claimed by the river.
It creeps on through the city as it continues to rain.
And yet somewhere out further in the plains
still they pray for rain.
YOU ARE READING
Pray For Rain
PoetryThis is a short poetry style piece that I wrote last spring during our seasonal storms. I had a lot of fun writing it and hopefully people enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
