The Drought Years

Can dust get more dry?

How deep may the sun burn?

What will I say when we finally meet beyond the desert?

Words turn to sand in my throat

Unwatered seeds dormant on desiccated leaves

A dim picture on the screen, swimmers

in an Olympic pool, another mirage

Shimmering waves, and 

shrinking trees nevertheless signal a presence

An old pantheon, survivors in an oasis

A yet untapped source