Thursday, November 15, 2007

THE WEATHERMAN

My streams rock-run dry,
no coursing pulse,
thirsty and low.

You predict rain,
time and time again,
the clouds hint,
Never spill.

Advertisements

One Response to “”

  1. janetleigh said

    I’m glad I stopped by your place, Snake. I like what I see here.
    This poem resonates with me and you could be writing about the Shenandoah River down the road a piece from me, or even the creek running through my property. One down to ankle height and the other bone dry. We need a rain dance goin’ on ’round these parts..:)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: