August in Texas

Miraculously green
Almost lush
Disorienting
Distracting
Underneath the bluest sky
Cool breezes
Out of place
Compliments of days on end
Of persistent gentle rain
Soaking into the parched soil
Moving up into fading brown grass
Coaxing trees to expand
That’s how we want
Your Spirit to fall
Not in a torrent
But in stretches of time
Soaking into our parched souls
Softening our hardened hearts
Gentling our harshest emotions
Over and over again
Awakening everything dead and dry
Coaxing us to look up
Toward the light
Seeking our sustenance
Becoming all You created us to be