Musings #32
DROUGHT’S END
Last night I woke
to a strange sound –
rain
falling through lead sky,
cold like bullets
firing wet.
This morning – life’s insistence
in the stiff will
of a new blade of grass
with never a thought
of dry suicide.
DROUGHT’S END
Last night I woke
to a strange sound –
rain
falling through lead sky,
cold like bullets
firing wet.
This morning – life’s insistence
in the stiff will
of a new blade of grass
with never a thought
of dry suicide.