Finally the rains came in August,
Seemed to cleanse the world anew.
Slaked the dust from baking stones,
And desert white abandoned bones,
Harking back to ancient times,
When rolling forests grew
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Parched ground that’s begged for life,
This past two hundred years.
Cracked and fractured river beds,
Stark ribs and skulls of cattle heads,
Dust so dry on those that left,
They could not conjure tears
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Yet there is so much to resolve,
hard as the August rain just poured.
A warming globe with melting poles,
Changing climes that make dust bowls,
Science issued red drought warnings,
that all largely go ignored.
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So as and if you wake to August rain,
Firstly, give thanks for your condition.
No rime of dust around the eyes,
No gritty tongue and crawling flies,
It’s time to rehydrate the world
Not debating crisis recognition.
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A.McTiernan
