Awaiting Desert Rains
By John Herlihy

Dry and cracking
The air taut as a whip
The land parched and thirsty
Not a single drop to drip
The night as black as pitch
The branches of the trees withered
Like the fingers of a witch
The rains never come
To this abandoned land
They never pour down from Heaven
But for one or two days on the sand
The falcons and snakes are just guessing
About the impending hour of blessing
When the storm clouds gather
Expectations workinto a lather
Grasses and shrubs lie bone dry
Even their voice cannot cry
All look to the heavens
Hour upon hour
Until the days turn sour
Waiting for the rains
That never come.