Prayer poems
2022 June portrait, WYO Writers
With all of the fires around, it’s obvious everything is so dry. A spark from a lawn mower hitting a rock can start a blaze right now. Trailer chains dragging on the highway shoot sparks into the dry grass, and away the fire goes. Irrigation water amounts are on the line. At this time, Angostura Irrigation District, Fall River County, S.D., is planning to deliver 50 percent of each farmer’s water allotment, though we pay for 100%. Expenses still have to be paid.
Soon the boaters will be griping that the reservoir is too low for their recreation. Just enjoy the expanded beach and be grateful it isn’t your livelihood that is threatened by lack of impounded water.
These prayers are for rain.
By Peggy Sanders
(With apologies to all of you real poets.)
Please Send Rain!
Pasture grass is dry and brittle.
We can’t look to government to take away our pain.
No sir, not this time, ‘less it can make it rain.
We thank you for our livestock, you trust them to our care.
We need some rain to help us,
Our pastures are so bare.
Please send rain!
Irrigation has been a lifesaver for ones who have that choice.
Right now, we face vastly diminished water supplies.
Ranchers and farmers cry with one voice.
God! We need rain, a slow soaking rain.
The kind that makes mud balls
When you walk through the grain.
We thank you for our families,
The ones that we hold dear. For our crop’s sake,
Please, calm our fear.
Please send rain!
By Baxter Black
Hangin’ on, Hopin’ and Prayin’ for Rain
“There’s a fingernail moon hangin’ low in the sky. The crickets make small talk as he passes by.
As the gentlest breeze stirs what’s left of his hair. He spits and he sniffs it, but no moisture there.
He stares at the field and remembers the year these same 80 acres paid the loan free and clear.
But these last 30 days have scared him to death. The dirt’s as dry as a horny toad’s breath.
He called up his banker after supper tonight. They talked for an hour and he’s sure getting’ tight.
Ol’ Thelma had kissed him and went on to bed. So, he took a walk, thought it might clear his head.
The doctor has told him he’s got to slow down. Sell out the home place and move into town.
‘Move into town! What the heck would he do?’ He shook off the thought and took a fresh chew.
A bachelor cloud, thin as fog on a mirror, crossed over the moon and then disappeared.
He sniffs at the air that’s still dry as a bone. And takes one more look at the seeds that he’s sown.
He’ll be back tomorrow if somethin’ don’t change. Just hangin’ on, hopin’, and prayin’ for rain.”
“If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land.” The Bible, 2 Chronicles 7:14.
Readers, please pray.
Sander’s internet latchstring is peggy@peggysanders.com.
