Gentle rainfall
Fills every pore of soil
Stretched over the mantle
Of a single-family farm
A single well
Could not quench
The thirst of a field
Of flowers or corn
Nor should a dozen wells
Deplete from the earth
Its reservoir of vitality
To surfeit one season’s gluttony
Look to the sky
Receiving its gifts in turn
With its demands
And grow in humility
