God, bless the rains down in Africa.
The parched plain, choking on chaff
and the ozone of the upcoming deluge
of Genesis proportions and implications.
It is an old wives' tale
of how far away the storm lay
counting seconds between thunderclaps
congratulating bench work
as the ball strikes the bedposts.
Yet make no mistake:
there is truth in the telling.
You can also hear the lion's roar
up to three miles away,
but he could always be closer.
Looking for someone to devour
the enemy prowls around
a little of everyone in his path
tasty morsels feasting on the flesh
of the Father's children.