When doth the rain fall?
Quenching parched soil, erasing death's decay.
What is this foul rubbage falling?
`Tis to rain as mud is to earth.
Let not no more falsehood utterings drop
From thine puckered, peeling lips.
Utter only sweet truths,
Send god, and his angels,
bring rapture, and healing, and love.
No, it could not be stopped.
Yes, it can be put right.
Cut the crimson cord,
Send forth your armored hounds,
when doth the rain fall?
You can make it now.
Adam Zank
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/new-orleans-3/
