Drought Times Poem by Francis Duggan

Thanks for reminding me of what it is to experience a drought. To which I add: The Drought At ten in the morning The haze has burned away As any trace of moisture From the night's gone without delay. The smell of the grass Burns in your nose An acrid smell That just never goes. The sound of footsteps on what remains of the grass Is a crunching admission That life here is past. There's not much left Even the weeds gave up the ghost And all else has been eaten Or burned into toast. So why do the farmers and ranches stay? They have faith that rain will come again some day And the land will burst forth in lush velvet green For those that remain. Rewards yet to be seen. Surprising it is that more have survived The drought in which so much perished and died Yet faith in the future Is why man has chosen to stay On this barren expanse of sand, dirt and clay. To be rewarded for their vigil And hear a meadowlark sing Is what all live for - Hopefully, next spring. s