a strange season

they’re going to turn
the water off
in benalla
at the very first
next drop of rain

it sounds a foolishness

as soon as rain falls
they’ll begin carting water
in tankers
for the rural city
of roses

it’s because the drought
has brought supplies
down low

because the fires
that are burning victoria
have filled the reservoir
with ash
fallen like snow
from the smoke clouds
that turned sunrise
to orange

sundown
to blood

and now
at the first positive sign
they’ll turn the water off
and start handing it out
in bottles

this summer
has grown into
the strangest
of seasons


© Frank Prem, 2006

Next Poem: lagoon #22

Back to Drought/Lagoon – Introduction

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