Saturday, July 24, 2010


Many moons ago winds began to blow, then came a hurricane and endless rain destroying freshly planted grain. Country lanes became seas of mud, streams of blood, fallen trees, tangled debris, bridges, homes, barns destroyed. Chicken
coops could not be found, dead chicks and mother hens never to lay an egg again. Pigs missing from their pen. The barnyard owl’s unanswered “Who?” was muted in the gloom.

Victims of the blight that washed away the rich black earth and everything of worth, mourned their loss tearfully But the farner’s
life must go on. Tragedy is their legacy.
They surveyed what nature made and stared at the sky, a cloudless blue invited them to build anew.

They stared in awe at the raw land. Could anything ever grow there again.

From unclaimed lumber and bricks, sticks and stones no one owns, mounds of topsoil here, there and everywhere neighbors sharing labors poured in from all around, praised the Lord, raised the barns and homes, shared yarns about the worst cloudburst since Noah sailed his ark through dark, uncharted waters searching for a place to disembark God’s menagerie.


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