Virga

Crowned Virga paid a visit the other day
Lingering overhead all morning
Shining bright yellows and golds
In the clear sunrise over the Sierras
Fading to wispy whites as the sky blued

Virga
Sounds like some ancient teasing goddess of rainfall
Floating through the air just aloft
Draped in a sheer shimmering gown
On her way home among the high mountain groves
Then vanishing without a trace

She plays her sorrowful tunes
Tugging at dried heart strings
Somber harmonies that slowly burst open
Only to evaporate in the sublime

Her moisture dripping forth
Though her wetness remains skybound
Always wanted but unattainable
Never quite making it to coat her dry congregation

Whirlwind columns of granite and marble
Dust pillars of her worship temples
March in droves across the plains
Tabernacles on the move
Reaching up to appease the goddess
To let down her gown upon the floor
And wash away the temple walls
Cleansing the summer's flaming sins

Her sermons never reaching low enough
To bless the faithful hearts of her following