Beating, Evidence, Remaining, Temperature, Stench, Excessive, Oppressive, Exposure, Dryland, Cover, Pink
Drylands
He stands: still, sombre.
Looking at the landscape
That lies parched and cracked;
Landscape that was once green,
Was once lush, was once supportive.
Now the sun is beating down—
Relentless, oppressive, piercing
His heart, his soul, his land.
The wind carries the stench
Of dead sheep. His life.
And yet, despite all the exposure
He says there is no evidence,
“Just like the drought of ‘44” he says.
The temperature climbs,
Crows eat his dead sheep.
When there is nothing remaining
Will he change his mind?
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