Where Rain Will Never Come 10 x 18 Pastel on UArt 400 Grit Paper on Acid Free Board

In Summer sun and evening breeze that lightly kisses cheeks, where rain will never come. Pop! Pop! Pop! Spherical white settles into well-oiled leather, where rain will never come. Freshly cut grass smelling sweet, a wheel makes rhythmic squeak laying chalk, fair or foul, where rain will never come. Attention called empathetically, “Play Ball”, young voices call encouragement, coaches clap in time with barking orders and rain will never come. Parents chatter earlier events, occasionally shout, siblings scatter to swing sets deep, or seeking nickels, dimes for ice cream truck chimes, old Rosie be where rain will never come. Cleats crunch cinders at old Stackpole and dust clouds filter skyward by arms clasped tight to canvas base where rain will never come.