The earth so thirsty,
Like the burning in your throat.
Dead leaves no longer crunch,
But slide from underfoot.

Dust has turned to powder
Radiating from the scorched earth.
Trees standing motionless,
Branches extended in plea.

A whirl-wind whorls in the distance,
Devouring all in it's path,
With not a question asked.
Devastation.

Roofs uplifted and fallen,
Cries of anguish at the sky.
Why?
Despair turning to anger.

A crack,
A rattle,
A rumble.
And the heavens answer in a loud mumble.

Hope?
Anticipation?
Possibility, or
Relief?

And then ...
Plop, plop - a raindrop
The sound so profound,
That all prospect is drowned.

The storm comes to a head,
Deafening anger pours from heaven.

This is what you want?
Take it - a demand, not a request.
Will you ever be satisfied?

The dehydrated ground,
Drinking it's fill.  Till it no longer can.
Each drop, a promise of life,
Where earth has narrowly avoided strife.

The darkness lifts,
The sky now a lighter hue,
Where the sun peeks through
Shining yet another never-ending promise.

Steam rising,
Yes - hope uplifting.
The lingering sweet smell of rain
Dampening your skin.

Satisfied?

Tick ... tock ...
Do you hear it?
The ticking of the clock?

Time waits for no one,
But ...
Please stop!

Time knows - I have no say.
Why, oh why?
Time, don't pass us bye.

First comes fear,
Then anger, then blame.
Why?  The question no one should ask.

Wait - slow down.
Stop!!
Just one more second?  I'll take it.

Acceptance creeps in, and
Lastly the weighty heaviness
Of the "closing time".

A dull, hulking thud
- So final,
deadly still.

Not a breath of air,
The world around me hangs motionless.
Waiting, waiting in anticipation.

Flora trying to remain worthy and proud,
Struggling and waiting in the still, heavy air.
Waiting in anticipation.

Fauna lying in the shadows,
Mustering the courage to look alive.
Waiting, waiting in anticipation.

Each day turns darker, the skies bulkier,
Waiting to burst, but impenetrable and dense.
They too ... waiting, waiting.

When?  Minutes pass bye,
Then hours and days.
When?  Waiting.

Each being holding on,
Holding their breath, striving for the feel of damp.
Ans still waiting.

Today?  No.  Tomorrow then?
No, how much longer can we hold on?
Today becomes tomorrow and tomorrow the day after.
Waiting, waiting in anticipation.