Do you feel her presence?
The wind dry they're
Sweeping dust into space
The plants looking pale
Begging for water
The pastures yelling at the heavens
The oceans reducing to a pint
Humidity is less
The clouds cry no more
Tear glands empty are they
November, her forerunner
Brings her forth
Dry is the season
Harmattan is approaching
Bryce Paul Matthias
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem