Poem #22 Dry Storm

Dry Storm

The masses gather,
Rise in a splendour of beauty,
Magnificent in their grandeur,
Terrifying in their potential power.

The sky darkens, they rise,
Higher and higher
And envelop the earth,
Casting a dark shadow over the burnt land.

They pass overhead
In a majestical form,
Towering above everything,
Ready to unleash their life.

But they pass like a stealthy ghost
In the quiet of morn.
They were blessed yet cursed –
For they bore no wealth.

When will the earth be free
From this terrible thirst?
When will life resume
In this usually pleasant land?

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Copyright 2007 Trevor W. Hampel.

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