Short Galah Poems

Galah

Dry earth, a parched and weary soul
takes blessing from the rain and seeks to drink its fill,
to wash its dusty face among the leaves where parrots call,
startled by the fall, they scream in harsh defiance of a laden sky
and fly to shelter fluffed and wet in outrage at the dripping trees,
which bend and tease and wave their hands in damp delight
shivering and dancing at the power of the passing shower
a green and most entrancing sight