We keep thinking
it cannot become any worse
this placid earth
awash in excess or in drought.
Hibiscus big as dinner pates
strung among drenched leaves,
hangs in drooping loops to the ground.
Sun makes its way warily
through clouds weighing the sky down,
new-born leaves water-logged and drowned.
The heavy weight of watered threats
is nearly too much to bear.
Too heavy to breathe, saturated, air
keeps me waiting inside,
Parched lips and dry-aged skin
too thin to accept such weight again,
hangs loose, losing all pride;
jealous of the hibiscus
which still stands tall
strong enough to resist it all.
I anxiously await a break in the clouds,
days of hope and rest in the sun.
Even the earth is in tears these days.
Like a child I hold my sign and sing aloud
“Rain, rain, go away. Come again
another day.” Or not. Never again
should we women and men
so misbehave and reduce our gardens to tears.
annarino writes 