The Dry Spell
The chirping of birds long gone;
The
flurry
of
butterflies
but
a
dream.
Trees shamed for their loss of leaves.
The smell of dust now prevalent,
replacing
the
scent
of
dew
long
forgotten.
Rustling of dry leaves stepped upon.
The scorching Sun, only a reminder
of
it's
loss
of
vegetation, now a scorched earth.
It's the dry season, the harvest of
plenty
long
forgotten. sand and dust a reminder
The stormy dust, a reminder of what
would
have
been.
It's the spell of the dry season.
Copyright © Joseph Jeremiah Naye | Year Posted 2017
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment