Rain Dance

 There was no magic in their movements,

but still it worked. No gods

 

were brought to tears,

yet they found themselves

 

drenched. Withered crops wilted

in despair, bison strayed,

 

confused villagers gazed,

and the children laughed.

 

The drums faded, the moon

shone bright in clear nights,

 

But they were always successful,

every single time,

 

because they refused to stop dancing

until it began to rain.

***

(Cuenca, Ecuador -- November, 2018)

Another ode to the hard work and countless rejections laying before me. I like the sentiment, but it feels a little simplistic and unoriginal.