Drought Watersong Coda

—There is no defense for a man who, in the excess of his wealth,
has kicked the great altar of Justice out of sight. —

having done their green work grasses say to sky,
we thirst

sky is blue and still

clouds at ease slide and tease
angel-moist under a brutal sun

sky-bound wet Himalayas
hoard their bounty

cold…… imperious……..huge……………heaped

vapors join and unjoin among their kind alone
they want to keep it for themselves    …..

it all

withholding as a vacant page
they grasp at every molecule

grass needs watersong
but clouds refuse to sing

over desiccated prairies
are billows of vaulted droplets

whole seas sequestered
for their own rainy day

Jim Culleny

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