There is a stillness
to heat, as if all
life is holding its breath
pulling moisture from
every pore, baking
life  even from rocks.

We watch for the rains
each cloud a broken promise
life slowing
to less than a crawl
waiting, hoping
watching mirages
of rain in the distance,
rain that never arrives.

Maybe tomorrow, we whisper
maybe tomorrow…


  1. But eventually, rain does come! And till it does we learn to dig wells, seed clouds, bottle spring water…many things we learn and do! Both for a literal drought and a symbolic drought, a drought in our creativity.


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