By Lisa Rieck

Poetry: "Asking"

We didn’t think to pray
for rain that spring and summer because
we were not the farmers or
the flower shop owners or
the camp counselors who led
young lives down the rivers in June

So we didn’t watch the sky
anxiously wondering when the clouds would
form from drops
of water in the air

didn’t notice the dust our shoes
stirred up when we walked across
the ground’s dry cracked skin

didn’t grasp all the green
that was missing in the brown surrounding
stale streets

We didn’t know we needed rain until
it came,
until that first drip dropped onto our busy
hands and made us
pause to ponder water

until the drops dripped down our lips, watering
parched throats
and dehydrated songs

We never knew we
loved the sound of rain against
the window, the soft drumming
drowning out
clocks ticking
hearts beating

Not until then did we wonder
how we ever went so long without
children playing in puddles, without
umbrellas drying outside doors

Just an hour after the first splash
from sky to sidewalk, we collected
rainwater in empty cups
to save for sunny days in case
the next time
the water waited
until it was expected.

About the Author

Lisa Rieck is a writer and editor on InterVarsity’s communications team. She worked at InterVarsity Press for over nine years as a proofreader and Bible study editor (and, as it were, resident limerick-writer). She is continually inspired by the beauty of the sky and loves good conversation with family and friends over steaming-hot beverages.

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