The Big Dry
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Where are the rains over field and meadow,
on plain and high country for so long quelled?
To dampen cracked earth, to make all things grow
till the crops are in and the herds have swelled.
Where are the season’s long drought-breaking falls
when the grid’s mighty river turbines turn?
Pacific gales and Southern Ocean squalls
on grove and vine, on forest silver fern.
Where are the cloudbursts a winter storm brings
and flash of thunderbolts hurled from the sky?
The misty jewelled bands of rainbow rings
over catchment to end the long Big Dry.
Soon the snows will melt into the spring thaw
and its first early rains return once more.
Written: July 1992
Copyright © Keith D Trestrail | Year Posted 2022
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