From the Hume
It’s so dry
The highway stretches endlessly from town to town
And it’s all so dry
Great gums whither in the parched air
Leaves curled in surrender
Waiting patiently, desperately, for rain.
Strands of verdant green amongst the grey gums
Betray hidden remnants of waterways
But they too are dry
The sculptured, rolling hills are grey
Etched with dry creeks
Like veins on a dying man’s hand
Tractors trail dust from useless paddocks;
Cattle follow the fodder trail
While pale grass wilts in the still only October sun
Empty dams, dry creeks, dying trees.
Beneath the roar of trucks I hear the earth gasp -
Parched, thirsty, dry.
And trees, cattle, farmers,
Wait patiently, desperately, hopelessly.
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Comments about this poem (From the Hume by Les Littleford )
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