AND THEN HE RAINED FIRE
As a child I spent my summers
standing over anthills, watching
worker drones march in neat little
lines—all but ignoring
the towering figure looming
over their dirt-hill home
with magnifying glass in hand.
Like a heathen god of old
I rained fire from the heavens,
smiting unsuspecting drones with
waves of concentrated sun:
my own little Sodom,
an endless source of fun.
And what was for me
an ordinary Sunday
was written down and preserved
for the kingdoms still to come—
On that day we saw the face of God
and with no rhyme or reason rained fire on our kin.
For days he relented and we believed the trouble passed,
for him only to return and rain water on our sin.