Waking to the blessed melody of rain, <br />distant thunder, golden flashes near the school. <br />Resting tired eyes now staring at the stain, <br />left by the welcome deluge that filled the pool, <br />reminiscing of a past life in Death Valley, <br />where Mother Nature's furnace dries out your insides, <br />got the better of a maiden named Ann-Sally, <br />used to go into the heat for long joy rides. <br /> <br />Day came when Sally, who had not returned, <br />appeared to Mother Florence in a dream. <br />When she was found next to her vehicle, all burned, <br />it was sheer luck that one brief passing of the beam <br />of an Explorer flashlight's candlepower found her. <br />And she looked bad there in that cheddar lunar light, <br />scorched metal pieces, strewn at random all around her. <br />It was a sobering and mood-depressing sight. <br /> <br />A broken vertebra, a twisted knee, one missing finger, <br />she made it back, it took six months then to recover. <br />The moonlit memories will likely always linger, <br />how she was lying there, with hostile sun to hover. <br />All broken into small sarcastic dreams. <br />And fourteen rattlers, very near and seeking heat. <br /> <br />So when it rains like this today it surely seems, <br />that, intermittently, God's grace is hard to beat.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/it-never-rains-in-death-valley/
