A ball of fire looks down and stares at the barren land
The silence is deafening, but for the hum of a locusts choir
A slight wind whirls the dust into a small tornado racing
across the sand. Tumble weeds tumble, jumping up and down.
The heat not fit for man nor beast scorches cruelly the
desert soil. The arid land cries for a drink, but water right
now is a distant memory.
Somewhere in the distance is one lone man, stands than falls to the ground. Crawling upon the desert land his parched mouth desperately searches for a drink. At last, the sight of a palm tree, water flowing from everywhere, but as he tries to sip the liquid of life, the water disappears.
He tries to crawl, but can no more, he lays quietly upon the desert
floor. He realizes it’s just too much, falls asleep and to his
Maker comes.
The boiling sun will remain six months more, when beauty and life
once more will fill the air. But for now, the sun is king, it will remain in the
sky; a killing thing.
Mary Lacey
2008
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Be always safe,
Karen
Regis
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in Tx., Karen Lynn. :(
Great write!
Edwin