Empty Swing Swings

The empty swing swings gently in the gentle breeze that wafts across the empty playground park. The dust in the foot-pans beneath the swings lifts up in the breeze, swirls and curls in a spiral willy-nilly, willy-willy. The town has all but died. A tardy few die-hard's remain, as they have no where else to go. The salty groundwater, which rose up in the soil due to over zealous irrigation, scalded the landscape and sucked the life out of everything alive. Even the birds and bees departed as the vegetation was parched to dry, shriveled brown, littering the stark parched brown earth, dotted with snow white blotches and scabby scolds. The residents were given fair warning. They failed to heed the tell-tale signs and reduce their wasteful excessive irrigation, as the salty water rose. The call to change was such an irritation. Like everyone, everywhere, the people here, only took up a tardy reaction when it was too late, or almost too late, which blind fate swung to far, far too late. Their fate was sealed. This time the gauge had swung far right down to empty.