Drought
Renay Intisar Jihad
Went for a Monday morning stroll
three weeks ago today
Nature filled this lake to its natural brim
with sun-tweaked tranquil waves
Silver reflections pranced
across a pale blue sky
Leaves, green and papery thin,
sensed their spine would wither and die
Each tried to stay glued to their robust roots
The end of a season closed in
I paused and watched the water’s edge
ebb rhythmically, then flow and bend
One week ago, today
I went for a morning walk again
Empty lake burned bone dry
With sun-soaked crusted dirt
Tears paddled my surprised eyes
Bronze leaves mauled with holes
Acorns dotting barren earth
I stood — stillness of death felt cold
In this moment, no glossy reflection
to camouflage a solemn hurt
I reflected on next year’s inevitable rebirth
while the birds flew south with the wind.
A true story.
All rights reserved 2020
