Wednesday, November 17, 2010


by: R.A. Slater

The tap was dry
Crusted over with rust
Where once life flowed freely
I tried many times
To turn the flow back on
Not the barest hint of a drop
Could be seen
Even on a rainy day
I sat patiently
I paced back and forth
Then finally lay down to die
The You spoke through the rain
And the tap began to drip
I sat up and paid attention
As one drip led to another
Then there was a steady stream to drink from
Slowly saturating all that could be seen
Long had I been awaiting this day
You promised me more
Not a whisper, a thundering
Soon there would be a torrent
A rush from heaven that no bucket could hold
I could not contain
But not a drop would not be lost
What wonders I anticipate!

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