Rains gushed out
of the darkened sky
heavy in its pour,  not
like the stream of a watering can,
not like the dousing of holy water,
the drip of a rotted hose.
The torrential drenching created
streams and creeks, angry rivers
cresting as the moon hung low,
moving beyond the
edge of comfort.
Downpours cascaded
as if the captains cried deep 
tears of remorse,
submerging the earth
forcing rockslides, mudslides,
erasing roads to nowhere
creating sinkholes under the
floods.
Sins and sinners soaked in
the rebellious nature of the
downpour while others
prepared for 
the change, the aftermath,
clouds promise to dissipate
with warmth, the earth
dries her wounds,
mothers scrub kitchen floors,
old soldiers find their way home,
writers and artists typeset
the skies with magical discourse,
the magnolia trees bloom
in unison.