Thursday, November 15, 2007


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

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


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..:)

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