POEM - Drought

It has not rained here since early spring
And everything is that much drier than it should be –
A large brown season –
A little more needy, wanting much –
Still, winds move clouds in slow resolute steps
For the dreamers of very large things.
The dryness reaches way down
Grabs hold tight and pulls up the dearth
Which paints with a blank, desperate color.


M C Biegner 7/2005