Fog hovers just above the barren ground
Waiting for the wind
To pick it up and paint the morning gray.
Only yesterday the rain decided not to fall
But only to deface the cars with ***** splatters.

The Sun, with motives of its own devising
Cannot decide to shine or maybe hide
And chooses to just peek
Between the shutters of the trees
To count the trains as they roll by
Along the tracks down past the corner.

The summer lawn is parched and dry.
They’ve limited our water use.
But all the buried hoses still come on
Beneath the darkness before dawn
And all the local bunnies know it.

Everything is changing
But it always looks the same.
The fog seeps through the kitchen door
And makes it hard to see tomorrow
Leaving us all sitting here
Jointly hoping it will rain.
                   ljm