Not a Drop of Rain

Streets are almost empty, shops are closed down
There's not a soul left in the bar to tell my troubles to
Think I'll walk down to the river that runs just south of town
I hate like hell when there ain't nothin' left to do
But stand beneath the river bridge and listen for the train--
It's been a long hot summer, not a drop of rain

I broke down in December, headed for the coast
I thought the wind and water would elevate my mind
I surfaced in the springtime feelin' like a ghost
Missin' more than ever the things I left behind
Now I'm standin' on this riverbank and still cannot explain
It's been a long hot summer, not a drop of rain

My bag is full of letters unopened and unread
I'm sure they'd tell the story of worry and of form
My heart is beating heavy with all we left unsaid
I swear to you I never meant you any harm
But sacrifice and compromise could never stand the strain
It's been a long hot summer, not a drop of rain

Tonight I'll close my eyes again and try to see your face
And listen for your voice to tell me it's alright to sleep
Convince myself I'll wake up in another time and place
Knowin' all the while that it's a promise I can't keep
A string of broken promises, another link of chain--
It's been a long hot summer, not a drop of rain

The children on the playground, the lovers in the shade
Remind me of a life and time that feels more like a dream
When the sound of love and laughter was the music that we played
As we lay beside the waters of a never ending stream
Now the stream has gone to hiding, the dream lives on in vain
It's been a long hot summer, not a drop of rain

The clouds are building slowly on the skyline to the east
The wind and dust are dancing like the devil across the lake
I could try to find a bottle or try to find a priest
Salvation won't be traveling either road I take
So I turn my collar to the wind that echoes this refrain:
It's been a long hot summer, not a drop of rain.

-- Robert Earl Keen (1956- ), American singer-songwriter

This Bread I Break

This bread I break was once the oat,
This wine upon a foreign tree
Plunged its fruit;
Man in the day or wind or night
Laid the crops low, broke the grape's joy.

Once in this wine the summer blood
Knocked in the flesh that decked the vine,
Once in this bread
The oat was merry in the wind;
Man broke the sun, pulled the wind down.

This flesh you break, this blood you let
Make desolation in the vein,
Were oat and grape
Born of the sensual root and sap;
My wine you drink, my bread you snap.

--Dylan Thomas (1914-1953), Welsh poet

Photo: the chapel altar at St. Martin's Episcopal Church, Ellisville

Anthem

The birds they sang
At the break of day
Start again I heard them say
Don't dwell on what
Has passed away
Or what is yet to be
Yeah the wars they will
Be fought again
The holy dove
She will be caught again
Bought and sold
And bought again
The dove is never free

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in

We asked for signs
The signs were sent
The birth betrayed
The marriage spent
Yeah the widowhood
Of every government
Signs for all to see
I can't run no more
With that lawless crowd
While the killers in high places
Say their prayers out loud 
But they've summoned, they've summoned up
A thundercloud
And they're going to hear from me

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in

You can add up the parts
You won't have the sum
You can strike up the march
There is no drum
Every heart, every heart to love will come
But like a refugee

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in


--Leonard Cohen (1934-2016), Canadian songwriter and poet, 1992