Here the ground cracks from over-exposure to the caressing rays of the sun. Water afraid of the stages of matter refuses God and the ground hungers for violent release, the flash of lighting, the harsh pelting sting of rain. After, only after. The arroyos swell with pride; courses through expectant beds water transforms. A scouring agent. After. I found a child's perfect plastic heart. I imagine unruly hair the color of the raven plaited into submission, tennis shoes scuffed from placing one foot atop the next, her body rocks gently, her strategy in minding Momma's edict to Be Still. In her hand she clutches a bracelet she strung from beads, all by herself.