Smell The Rain
By g.l.bass

A small gift,
This night’s
Fire orange
Climbs down behind
Texas hills
Enroute to find
Yet another
Secret slumber.

You and I
Wander down
Dim lit streets,
Await for the final
Settling of evening’s
Dark shadow gown,
We wonder
The plight
Of so many rivers
Run dry,
So many blood veins
From so little rain.
Our hard rock thoughts
Venture like
Vultures round the sun.
They circle “past” ways.
They fear future days
To come,
SO much’
And so little,
It seems,
Depends on
Journeys of sun.

We chanced life and limb
Against flooded rivers,
We waded channels
Waist deep,
Searched our courage,
Chanced our love,
We feared neither
Givers or takers,
Neither river’s turns
Or life’s bends.
Treasure hunters,
Amongst these Texas hills,
We are sure
Were without end.

Tonight our journey
Floats on overheated
Black top freeways.
Convection winds
Tornado all those
River Treasures,
Now parched bedrock,
Into this night’s sky,
Its dust settles and cakes
Across our foreheads,
Into our eyes.
As our love learns
Sweat and the meaning
Of dry river names.
We hang on
To hopes
For even
The smell of rain.

Website Copyright Alannah K Ashlie 2005