seems like an ablution
poured on waiting trees,
their glistening leaves
opened wide with desire,
uplifted for the gift
and the spendthrift skiy,
purely white to each
horizon, cries tears
that drip, drip, slipping
softly from petal lip
to lip, watering the land,
soaking into soil and sand
to slide down rock and root,
lathering the swollen chutes
first published in The Penwood Review
also published in Illinois State Poetry Society
©2016 Bonnie Manion