by Kenneth P. Gurney 

I awaken to a sky
as dark as nightmare.

My prayer for rain
blots out the moon.

But it is not my prayer
but my verbal repetition

of an echo I hear
emanating from the trees.

It has been dry so long
I cut the honey into cubes

and set one out
on the table to dissolve

to sweeten the rain’s
bitter surrender of its wings.


Kenneth P. Gurney lives in Albuquerque, NM, USA with his beloved Dianne.  He edits the anthology Adobe Walls which contains the poetry of New Mexico.  His latest book is This is not Black & White.  To learn more visit