Monday, July 21, 2014

The Deficit Oftenness

The dry lands,
All caked up,
Bare patches,
Brittle and barren,
Their unbroken askant gaze,
Yellow skies unrelenting,
The clouds come and pass,
The grey tinge,
Deliberately playing
Hide and seek,
Parched throat,
Croaking hoarsely,
Not until next week.
Prayers rise.