Drought is more than dry leaves
Parched grass, empty wells,
It’s waterless faucets and families
Who have to buy trucked in water
Or go without the precious liquid.
It’s frantic farmers whose crops
Are stunted or fields left fallow,
Empty cisterns, dripless taps.
I dutifully do my best:
Short infrequent showers, unwashed car,
Juice when ice water
Would better quench my thirst.
My efforts are miniscule,
The scale gigantic.
I would join a rain dance if I could find one
Seed clouds if I were a pilot
Pray to the rain god if I believed
Practice black magic if I knew the art.
Lacking these, I shake out
My long unused umbrella,
And place it by the front door
As a reminder: if not today,
Tomorrow, if not tomorrow
Next week, next month, next year.