Saturday, June 28, 2008

A Word Picture

A hot wind moves across my skin, sweat trickles down my face and back,
dry grass crunches beneath my feet, a bee buzzes by.
Under the trees of my backyard woods, in the dark shade
yellow eyes watch me warily from a darker shadow
and blue eyes look up at me pleadingly from a little gray and tan face,
softly meowing for a pet. All around me my flowers droop, thirsty and dying roses, honeysuckles, and tigerlillies.
Is that thunder I faintly hear? Is that a dark cloud on the horizan?
Is rain finally coming? Please, God, say it is.

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