Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sep 2019
The rains were late this year
Land sparse,
Vast
Plains barren and parched.
Starved with an awful thirst.
Mouthfuls of sand,
Handfuls of dirt.
Months of hardship
Sow seasons of hurt.
As worship converts to clouds
The Sun bows out,
Proud but yet usurped.
Vulture circles bold and undeterred.
Gaze beholden to a crack torn earth.
Rob Rutledge
Written by
Rob Rutledge  30/M
(30/M)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems