The old chair was tattered, worn from age and years of use.
The seams on the upholstery were all coming loose.
Next to the old chair was a wooden walking cane.
As the old man rocked he said, "I remember when it used to rain."

He stared into his field that was withered, dried up and brown.
The dust twirled in the hot breeze as the old chair made a squeaking sound.
Then he said, "I remember when gray clouds would come and stay for awhile.
I used to have a hay stack over there next to that wood pile."

He continued to rock in that old Lazy Boy chair.
There was not a cloud in the sky, not a cloud anywhere.
As he cleared his throat again, I could tell he wanted to cry.
He then looked at me sorrowfully and then gave a low, sad sigh.

He said, "My wife used to have flowers all around this big yard.
The two of us kept things growing, we both worked at it so hard.
But now the flowers are all gone and all the trees have died.
I remember her face as she sat on that old swing looking at me and cried.

Our pond down there is empty and our water well is dry.
It seems none of our prayers were answered and I can't understand why."
With his wrinkle hand he reached for his cane and pointed at a big oak.
I could see the tree was barely alive and then the old man spoke,

"I remember when it used to rain and the fields were all green.
The pond was full of fish and my wife grew the largest tomatoes I had ever seen.
The orchard gave us plenty of fruit from each and every tree.
Apples, pears, plums, and even some fruit that was new to me.

I remember when I took my wife's ashes and planted that oak tree.
It is the only thing still hanging on, except this old house and me."
The old man slowly quit rocking and drifted off to sleep.
The wooden cane fell from his hand and I wanted to weep.

His breathing slowly ceased and I looked out toward the west.
A rain cloud was forming, a nice one at best.
It started with a slight drizzle then the big drops came.
Then I heard the old man's voice, "I remember when it used to rain."