The Drought

 
The heat spread
like wild-
fire burning for miles
charring trees and brush
orchards in bloom
rushing with urgency
claiming all
given and borrowed
sweeping colors
loomed in plume
reducing to a hush
but, the crows came
at early morning light
shamelessly cawing
war, war…more
tap dancing at the lip;
the hollowed womb of
birdbath in gloom
veined in vain
with grief.

The uncouth season
ended non-ceremonial
in its rage and
the plum tree
appeared in its corner
defeated in age
ghost-like taller than before
the leaves heaved
(once more) in relief
and
the bark absorbed
ash and soot to cloak
bearing fruit, tip to hip
sweet as honey
juices running clear

We stood ‘neath the shade
plucking fruit
one by one
dusting remains of the day
flesh on flesh
in the mouth, creamy
tinged with ruby red
but there was no pit
to spit
in the barren land
feet sinking in a pool of tears.