English have a rain dance. It is called cricket. Necessary to
dress-up in white, put on pads and carry a bat, walk onto the green field,
and when the umpire calls for play, down comes the rain.
there was always beer to drink, so the ticket money had it's
function. Sit there for wet hours while old men from the Glamorgan
Cricket Club yarned on about wondrous deeds from past
Here in Kentucky, barn Swallows have
their second brood. No harrying Wrens or callous Phoebe's to trouble
them. And the barn is quite peaceful, with just that little chirrup of
hungry children reckoning on a relationship between movement and food.
And this year we too have our rain
dance. Necessary to keep the trowel well hidden on the way from the
barn to the vegetables, because these days I don't drink beer.