The Rainmaker Poem by Richard D Remler

........



Mr. Velt reminded me
Just today it was him
Who brought the rain.

And the old man smiled
With deep-set magic eyes,
And a grin that curled
Inward like a ghost.

It was a marvelous rain.

Drenching,
Cool,
Hungry...

It had been too hot,
Too dry...
A windless heat,
Empty and without life.

There would be no
Harvest this year.
We had nothing left...

And today
Mr Velt peeked out
From his old brick shed
And eyed the morning sky,

And he said words
That I did not hear,

And he grinned
Wickedly -

There was a dark in his eyes
That reflected the gray
Emptiness we had grown
Accustomed to.

He moved slowly,
Listening to the heat
Of the day,

Defying it.

Defining it.

And then something moved.

The air curled somewhat,
And tossed a sand devil
Into the nothingness
That did not want to stir.

Mr. Velt looked down
And away,
Then peered up into
The heavens,

And he spoke to
Them again,
Whispered words
Even the shadows could
Not hear.

A small quiet
Something breathed
Through the bay trees,
Dancing in the dry,
Dead, crackling leaves.

And his calloused,
Bony, curved finger
Pointed at a tiny spot
Of nothing on the horizon
Over the burned out hills,
And I heard thunder.

A quiet rolling thunder,

And he was talking to it,
And it talked back.

And the air moved,
Awakened, laughed,
And spat with a childlike
Amusement.

"I bring rain, " Mr. Velt said.
"For you I bring rain..."

And he spied the gray dark
Of the clouds, and laughed at
The lightning that fired
In and out from the sky,
And he jumped around with
An oddly joyous humor.

And we did not know him,
Not much. He was a nobody.

He'd come to us
From some tiny place
Called Kietrz or Kertz,

Came to build us wooden chests
And shelves and cases,

A hand-worker,

An artist. He was alone.
Always alone.
One who never spoke
If he didn't have to.

One who did not like
To be spoken to.

And I watched him
Gazing up, moving there
And back,
Letting the cool wet
Wash the dust away from
His old leathered
Loafers.

And I said "Thank you."

His eyes narrowed at me,
And he shook his head.
"Not for you. Not for you."
And then he stepped into the rain,
Let the water pour over him,
Drench his thin gray hair,
Bead down his forehead,
And he tasted the cool nectar.
And his eyes were embers,
And he knelt and touched the
Thirsty earth,
Touched it lovingly,
Like a father t o a child.

He played with it,
Then he took a handful of
Mud, and smiled.
"For her. Only for her."
and, cheerfully bemused,
he walked away,



Copyright © MMXIV Richard D. Remler