The Breaking of the Drought

there is a certain feeling to the day
that something will happen

the air massing, with no colour to the sky
sifting itself inside out in turmoil
but the cloud disperses
dissipating expectation

the sun is quick to return
stretches headstrong to the horizon
hard pressing its flat horror
the stunted scrub squeeze-dried

bent over double in submission
the ghost wrap of the winter crop
rattles its dead prayers to the wind
his harvester idle for the season

the long wait begins again
that endless wait for change
day after day of disciplined ritual
waiting for a break in the heavens

in the tomorrow that never came
at dawn in the patched shadow
with the sky groping to contain itself
he walked to the back shed

a sudden, sharp crack-echo
the air shocked still
and it is over,
too soon the family will find
and the endless cry.

© Richard Scutter 11 November 2007