Muddy mess

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The summers have stretched far too long. The boiling sun has bleached the sky, burned the earth, and turned the trees a deathly brown. Parched lips murmur quietly, praying to the rain gods, appeasing them with promises of bountiful homage.

But will the rains, when they come, bring the promise of life with them, or a deluge of destruction?

Muddy mess

The thatched straw roof
Is no match
For the thick ropes of water
That are lashing the earth
And huddled in a corner
Cradling his head
Between knotted bony knees
He curses the day
He prayed for rains
Incessantly it pours
The earth is a muddy mess

Jyotsna Atre

This post is a part of theĀ Blogchatter A2Z challenge