Dustbowl Poem by David Wood

Dustbowl

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Shimmering heat cracked the earth.
This is the year of the heat wave,
Sticky prickly high temperatures.

The rains have failed and the crop
Dies in the hard crusty ground;
Arid days lie ahead.

A carrion crow perched on the fence
Looks at me as dust blows in drifts
Hitting my face and eyes.

The umbrella, now redundant, leans
Against the hall wall as the dog lies
In the shade waiting for its meal.

Why oh why are we forsaken.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Tirupathi Chandrupatla 15 July 2013

The perils of drought are brought out in the poem very clearly. Please read my poem 'Drought Go Away' when you have time. Thank you.

1 0 Reply
Valsa George 15 July 2013

Now, here in Kerala, India, it is just the opposite! It is all rain, once it has started pouring out and our umbrellas cannot rest idle! From your poem, I could feel the dry heat over there!

1 0 Reply
Patti Masterman 14 July 2013

They say everything comes back again- alas even the dust bowl. Enjoyed this a lot.

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