Pregnant with longing day's molten sky
displays first cloudlets skimming plains
and welcomes them into afternoon piles
of cotton-wool eiderdowns wet with rain.
Edging nearer they threaten to over-spill
drenching whatever is milling about and
waiting waterless at holes for their filling
of heavenly nectar as stomping, snorting
and squawking loudly, birds and animals
all faintly sway with great parching thirst.
This is the worst arid drought with relays
of rare newsworthy rain yet it can carry a
hope to each weak whining seared throat
as dust-scorched limbs move painfully to
view holes as edges between life or dying
of dehydration appear to grow broader by
every moment yet as jet cracks on horizon
nostrils flare and life in anticipation sighs.