High Plains Aquifer Drying Out. Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

Huge water sleeps below the ground,
A giant cup, nowhere else found.
It feeds the farms, the corn, the wheat,
Keeps hungry bellies from defeat.

But thirsty roots drink all too deep,
While rain forgets its promises to keep.
The water drops, a sad, slow sigh,
Beneath the wide and open sky.

The wells run low, the pumps strain hard,
The farmer's hope feels bruised and scarred.
The fields grow dry, the dust will blow,
Where once the greenest crops did grow.

This silent thirst, a growing dread,
For all the food that we are fed.
A choice we face, so clear and stark,
To save the water, leave our mark.