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I wonder that We love the sun When we know We need rain And we know it isn’t coming And we know why It amazes me We say “At least it’s beautiful” Hiding from ourselves The danger in drought This curse of arid land The death of living plants If we were ancient people We would admit our fear Paint our bodies With parched earth Adorn ourselves in mourning Wail to the gods of rain and sky We would dance Until we fell Or the rain fell There would be no glory In a dry day All rights Reserved |
Selected Poems
2010