Suthern Rain

By M. Jay Mansfield

Deep in the south as the day slows down
the wind ripples tarps
as the dogs nestle down
the smell of rain
slowly rolling in
The clouds get darker
the grown ups come in
Warnings call out from every door
Come on in
here comes the storm
Down thru the neighborhood
street lights flicker on
A mothers gaze,
the yard it combs
for all of her children,
on two’s and fours,
only one thought
gathering them in
before the first big boom.
Smiling as she watches her sister's kid,
stained and dirty
grinning ear to ear.
A quiet small warning
for a neighbor's child
Get on in now
before it really gets wild
She looks out again
straining to see
the man she calls her's is still in the field.

He struggles with a tractor
that seems weaker each year
breaking the land
preparing for spring
cursing the rain
that he prayed for last year,
struggling to finish before dirt becomes mud
praying that 3rd gear will hold for one more row.

Dust devils play like the kids did before
running across
and into the woods

As the sunday winds blow
the weekend is done
all scramble in safe
quiet and warm
the first few sprinkles
ringing off of the tin
and everyone knows
as the day ends,
sleep will be fine,
as the rain comes down...
'cause there’s nothing as fine
as the cold rythmic sound
of the cold suthern rain
coming down on the tin.