Tuesday, September 01, 2009

Drought

This morning there was rain that I could hear
but could not feel, falling all around
while grass turned grateful toward the water-sound.
Though drought stood on my skin, my open ear
heard liquid domes on every leaf appear
then swell and merge, and tumble to the ground.
The roots drank deep, their thirsting finally drowned
but on my lips fell nothing but a tear.

And all the while the vegetation glistened
with new moisture, while the rainbow arched
across the gentle heaven, I stood parched.
I could not taste the rain; I only listened
to the raindrops pattering on leaves.
Drought's the condition of a heart that grieves.


photo courtesy of Muhammad Imran
Collection available! Knocking from Inside

5 comments:

Mark said...

I quite like how you contrast the two different types of drought and use that as a great metaphor.

Well done!

Anonymous said...

From Therese B. at RWP -- Wow, a lovely sonnet, and written in one day! I'm impressed.

sarah haliwell said...

Lovely, especially the last line.

Michelle Johnson said...

you've taken drought and measured it against your own parched lips beautifully. sometimes we thirst for what we can't have and we're left to grieve. hope all is well. have a great day.

caroleesherwood said...

i like the contrast of being parched and hearing the rain. how one can feel so separate from the world.