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Glistens off my back
Radiating warmth that fills my being
and leaves me
A flinch, a drop of blood
A flying pest escapes,
Drained, and somnolent
Crackling dry grass
Cicadas sing high in the trees
Frogs ponder quietly, soaking
No lawns to mow, heat oh the heat
Will ever the rains come?
Panic rises, whose home is next?
Deer run, gather in farmers fields
Foxes creep to water troughs ducking low
Birds squawk in unfamiliar territory.
Smoke, fetid and heavy
Clouding the skies
Peering into the heavens
People watching, hoping,
The flies are harbinger of good
Will the rains come?
When will the rains come?
Join us will you not? Kate’s hosting Five Minute Friday again this week. It’s a nice community of people gathering to write and you are so welcome to join us.