MUSED Literary Magazine.
Poetry

Drought

Lee Evans

delightful alone
undiscontented
nothing needs doing
dry autumnal dust hangs
in the air above vernal ponds
water trembling with insects´ footsteps
gleaming with passing skies
dry mud-stained leaves leave
no trace of slithering salamander
mosquitos that whisper
in the ears have disappeared
bog frogs´ throats lie parched
silent like instruments
neglected by musicians
who search the skies in vain for rain
holding out their hands to feel
fresh drops fall from clouds
that only pass away
woods dried up
cut off at the root
dry insight