parched harvest

the hints
that it may be going
or perhaps
keep getting reported

tonight though
I drove home from my work
a different way
maybe it’s the time of year
a seasonal thing

maybe they were old
I don’t know
but I passed a mountain
of uprooted trees
higher than I’ve ever seen

and heaped together
like a massive bonfire stack
before cracker night
on the fifth of november

and across the road
pears hung
yellow and over-ripe



the trees un-watered
their leaves parched
and curled

this is orchard country
peopled by folk
who love their trees
as their children

and I cannot believe
no I cannot quite believe
the worst
is over

© Frank Prem, 2006

Next Poem: lagoon #30

Back to Drought/Lagoon – Introduction

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