the sieve and the sand

Bless this, our water
one more time. Oh,
I beg of thee, to shake
this tree and let the rain
drops go. Soak the leaves
so my dog can lick ground.
We plowed those fields,
sown down with golden
stalks and stretching forth
to rake the clouds from the sky.
All our work, from day to
day, with bent backs
and bruised knuckles,
just to sit beneath this tree.
To feel the drops once again,
fall from leaves onto our skin.