Blessed Gray Poem by M.C. Bruce

For more than a year
It has been unreasonably dry,
the skies refusing to cloud,
the rain staying away from us

Like an ex-girlfriend angry
over some perceived slight.
We walk the streets of bone
muttering about how long

it has been since the skies opened
and we were pelted with beautiful rain.
Today, when I awoke, the sky
was a blessed gray, the clouds

hanging low and heavy, the smell
of moisture in the air.
And everyone I saw
walked smiling, hoping.