Sunday, August 19, 2012

The corn died this summer



The corn died first, then
the soybeans, thirsting for the rain
that didn’t come. Farmers watched
the early morning, noon, 5, 6 and 10
o’clock news knowing that nothing
was changing except hope.

And occupying my postage stamp
of a yard I scurried from grass
to gardens to trees to grass and
back again, a perpetual etcetera
of water and hoses, sprinklers
and soakers, and constant motion
of water and hope.

The red buds died in the boulevards
this summer, and the Civil War tree
in the park, three of my rosebushes
but only one limb of the crabapple.
Hope endures.

This poem is submitted to the dVersePoets prompt of the dog days of summer. To see other poems, please visit the site.

10 comments:

Deidra said...

It's the same here in Nebraska. Mandatory watering restrictions, too. Yesterday, it rained and no one dodged the drops. We all walked around in it as if the sun were shining, letting it soak in to all the dry. I don't know if it can ever rain long enough...

Sandra Heska King said...

"Only one limb of the crabapple. Hope endures."

Yes.

Anonymous said...

Hi- think my comment was saved - but if not go to dVerse and let me know. Really lovely poem. k.

Unknown said...

I pray rain comes to you soon. It can be disheartening to see so many things wither and perish, a helpless feeling when little can be done about it. At least one can always be assured of the laws of impermanence and know that "this too shall pass"..eventually..I hope sooner than later.

Maureen said...

'The red buds died in the boulevards': lovely line, Glynn.

Claudia said...

just read today that our bread here in germany will become more expensive because of the dryness in the states... it's a chain reaction.. glad that you ended on a hopeful note

Anonymous said...

Hope endures: this sums it up all. Prices rose here too this year, the monsoons were late.

Anonymous said...

a sea of heat
wave after wave
moving across the land
searing
scorching
long tongue of dogs
cats under porches
clothes hanging dry
it turns
week after week
life into death
hard earth
hard times
solid
enduring hope

Brian Miller said...

hope does endure...those that make it through the hard hot tests....some dont and never will...

S. Etole said...

The summer when no one heard the corn moan in its growing ...

excellent poem!