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Poem

Drought cooks a garden; 
foliage’s veins and arteries burn.
One wonders if rain will return; 
the ground, an abstract of cracks.
Baked by the sunlight, 
plants retreat; leave desolate dry land.

Miles of parched land, 
can’t share its lifeblood, with thirsty farms and gardens.
Farmers pray for rain and sunlight; 
when they lose crops, they feel nature’s burn.
Dying fields of cracks, 
pray in secret for rain’s return.

As the farmer prays over his tax returns; 
he lists lost crop overhead and pictures his dry land.
A tear falls upon the memory of dry, gaping cracks.
Unlike the gardener both feel the same burning.
Both are vulnerable; farm and garden;
to the ultraviolet blades of searing sunlight.

Many years of fiery sunlight,
Without rain, leaves a bleak tax return.
A farmer’s inner light still burns; 
he’ll see, if a job, he can land.
He and the gardener,
will have success; when the spring rain fills the cracks.

Over-achieving clouds spit; crops thrive in the sunlight.
Unlike the gardener; 
The farmer has a more interesting tax return.
Spring rains will fill the gaping cracks.
At one with the land,
his rage, no longer burns.

Come fall, his fireplace logs, will burn.
The coming winter, brings its own style of cracks.
Snow-blanketed land,
gleams in the sunlight.
When spring makes its return;
birth comes to crops and gardens.

Both celebrate, with anxiety burning;
formulating planting plans, for their land.
Land without cracks, 
will yield plants, upon the rains return.
Praying that the sunlight,
will be kind to their crops and gardens.

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