Drought
The clouds darken the room with shadows
shattering the daylight
The quiet afternoon
which finally shades the sun
The rain holds on tight to the sky
like tears that swell
unshed
The dry, cracked soil
beyond the locked doors
The creek beds empty
only the faded violet thistle growing
along the path
Outside of the windows, the gray promises
taunting
Time passes slowly
waiting for something elusive
the blue breaking through
light returning
Another day in torrents, it will come
pounding the earth, endless pouring
music on the roof
It will come
Angela Minard 2012©
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