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?

All rights reserved.

Copyright 2007 Trevor W. Hampel.

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