When the sky was blue,

My heart was brittle,

Dry to blistered souls

Seeking drink.

So God hung black clouds low,

Let loose His floods,

And poured forth more

Than I could hold.

I sputtered and choked.

He wrapped a hand around my heart

And wrung out sustenance

For others.

The sky is gray,

But my heart is soft.

In drier days,

It would have

Crumbled.

Photograph by LaRene Gaunt