Fire of heaven raging
hot desert in the brain
parched mud and gaping patterns
crazy on an empty plain.
Dust drifts, clogs the cracks
stifles mischief in lost corners hiding
and chokes with glee
the joyous chuckle in the throat.
Fade far you songsters
splitting clay is not for you,
hot breath of scorching sun
evaporating dew.
Succour for the wild land
weeping rain
open once ephemeral buds
then droop your heads in shame
The crevices are brimmed by tears
and greasy clay -
I am bound by fears
and seek for wind blown hay.