following the dryness

The dry cattle
in  the dry flood
a thunderstom, drying
in the dry hoe

Following the dryness, without the knowledge that the path is dry
Not knowing the dry thorn
Not knowing the Sun is dry

Not realizing that some dry thorn will dry
And the water will be a dry shot
And it will dry its destiny

Please, rain, come to tell me
If I can go up there to pour you
Please, rain, pay attention
If your people, up there, lives in solitude

If it ends up not used to it
If it ends up still, in silence
If it ends up crying low
If it ends up half abandoned

It can be Saint Peter tears,
Or perhaps a big love crying
It could be the sky unbuttoning
It could be a coconut being poured.