Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
The crops are drooping in my fields. No rain again today. My precious topsoil, dry as dust, threatens to blow away. It makes a farmer feel like Job to be afflicted in this way. No rain dance I can do will help. I lack the words to pray. We’re victims of a climate change which makes the land too dry. Nor is hope on the horizon from the high blue, empty, sky.
0
Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 2:49 PM UTC
Dust bowl
The crops are drooping in my fields. No rain again today. My precious topsoil, dry as dust, threatens to blow away. It makes a farmer feel like Job to be afflicted in this way. No rain dance I can do will help. I lack the words to pray. We’re victims of a climate change which makes the land too dry. Nor is hope on the horizon from the high blue, empty, sky.
Drought conditions are afflicting the Southwest United States. Conditions are severe in parts of Texas and Southern California.
john-f-mccullagh
Written by
63/M/American
Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 2:49 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem