August Rain

Begging for sleep, his eyes roll again,
pain keeps them from slumber.
She washes cups in the kitchen,
what else can she do?
 
He did ask for something,
when his voice could be heard,
a prayer for August rain.
Heat brings a bad day for being caged this way
but she recalls the whispered last request
and meets me on the lawn.
 
Me, a simple hosepipe,
my snake belly, needing to be filled
so water can become my tongue.
holding my head in her hand,
she looks to his bedroom
and turns the tap.
 
My inside fills to burst,
and answers his prayer,
pounding on windows
belting down gutters
rhythm of first drops
rain dance on roof tops.
I carry the drums of droplets,
his tranquility comes tapping on tiles,
coolness calms his condition
smiling at the August rain.
 
Finally sleep swings open his cell door;
 
We hang our heads in the garden,
clothes and hair soaked,
she lets me fall to the grass,
I feel empty, spent, I can only watch,
as the rain maker mixes tears in the mud.