Disclaimer: The poem’s mine; no one else’s. And if you steal it – the #1 ground rule will always apply: don’t even think about stealing it – why would you, anyway? 

Author’s Note: I’ll forever count myself lucky that my teacher didn’t count the syllables in this. And yes, to the unspoken question, this was an assignment.

Dry air scrapes the sky

causing my eyelids

to burn against the wind

Breezy cool days are

common; the rain retreats us

And the land praises the sky.

Rushing water fills me

it engulfs my whole being

Raindrops fall and drip

The brazen plowed land

scorches under the sun’s wrath

Rain simmers the land down;

People cry out in relief.