My Observances. Poem by James Devany

As my observances may permit,
Now it is raining
Heavy warm drops fall slowly onto the dry land
Grasses will grow
Bugs will quench their thirst
The dead corpses will rot further
And the air will be cleared of dust
And in the end?
The rains will stop.
The dust will return.
Dead bones will dry.
Worms will ask for water.
The grasses will wane.
Who is to say when that time is to come?
Surely not you or I.
For weather is a chaotic system
No one knows the untold power lying in the question unanswered
Only the resolution may break those bonds.