The Drought

I dreamt of a burning forest.
A single spark ignited the terror.
Roaring flames consumed everything.

The hardiest trees have become brittle and dry.
The fields are brown and barren.
The wells bring forth only a trickle.

The burning sun is high above me.
Each night it sets in a cloudless sky.
My wish on the first star never changes.

Finally, there will be a storm at dusk.
As clouds fill the sky, my mood will lift.
Dare I look forward to the sunrise again?

Only then will my dreams become peaceful.
I don’t know when it will happen.
Nature is silent and gives me no clues.

William Wayne Smith


Patreon

This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.