Wednesday, 5 June 2013

Drought Poem

Hot wind blowing, blowing,blowing.
Sky hard-blue shines overhead.
Dust clouds flying, flying, flying. 
Stunted crops could  soon be dead.

Stock stands painting, painting, painting.Dirty  sheep are  tombstone grey.
Birds are wheeling, wheeling, wheeling, Looking for some easy prey. 

Trees are bending bending  bending bowed by winds as though they pray.
White clouds empty empty empty.
Again no rain will fall today.

By Pauline Cartwright

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