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Isaiah 35–One

Natalie Cox

The old man up and started dancing
with the thunder.
Drops as big as quarters
washed dust from our eyes and
almost smashed
yellowed finger-high sprouts.

When the cars started pulling to the side of the road
we turned the radio up
and gave out free cokes,
though we drank rainwater which was sweeter
—scared the dog under the porch,
the lizard sunning on the wall slunk away to some hole.

Men in suits and barefoot, roadtripping kids
sang and danced and jumped in puddles
and praised the Lord and the sky for the water gathering in pools at our feet,
soaking our dustcaked hair,
filling rain gutters until they rang like bells on a Sunday morning.

This morning I woke, still damp,
to the honeysmell of cherry blossoms
and fat lazy bees buzzing in my hair.