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The Drought

The drought was long and deep and wide,
And dusty was the land;
Cracked was the parched earth, and dry;
Cursed, the cloudless sky;
Blistering hot, the seabed sand;
Waves of shimmering heat, the tide.

All across the scorched face
Of Mother Earth was pain --
Rasping sounds of burning deaths
And rattling sounds of final breaths,
All screaming for a drop of rain,
Of which there was no trace.

This week I heard the thunder near,
Felt moisture on the breeze;
This week I heard the songbirds sing,
Heard country churches' belfries ring
As tens of thousands hit their knees
To settle their arrears.

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