In Australia the wheat was green,
The soil was moist and rich before
The drought set in. Some blamed it
On climate change; other farmers,
Like political moles, stuck to their guns,
Invoking normal variation in a normal
And unchangeable world.
Either way,
The wheat began to wither, its
White roots dying from the tips, its
Verdant leaves steadily browning back
In a desiccating, soul-chaffing wind,
Drying, crisping, dying, crumbling, and
Breaking off, fading away. When the
Nurturing soil dries up and
Begins to blow away, the crops
Planted with such hope and faith in Spring
Cannot finally be sustained anymore. But
That does not diminish the beauty
Of a season of virtue which may come again
When we, looking with candor within,
Rediscover our human genius: the
Capacity to believe.
20091202
The Drought
Copyright © 2009 Ernest Bloom.
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This read a bit like almost a fairy tale to me. That's not exactly what I mean... I can't describe it. It's the "Either way," that did it, though.
ReplyDeleteNot quite sure what I'm trying to say, but I liked this.
thanks, c.
ReplyDeletei think of this, and certain other pieces of mine, more like fables. this one, for example, may or may not have much to do with australia.
A fairy tale indeed. A sort of abstract, fabled kingdom, Australia being, as you say, just a name without any obvious political, geographical or other implications. But abstract in terms of the fictional world yet with vivid detail, a close-up slice of life penetration into the state of the kingdom's flora with a twist and a happy end and a morale at the end. I enjoyed this little picture, it is juicy and lively and pretty and ah...verdant.
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