The fertile seeds
Lie withered and dried
On the hard, cracked ground.
Suspended life
Reflected in vacant stares,
Waiting by the slimy edge
Of the waterhole womb;
Hardly noticing
The callous wind
Leaching life’s song
From the dying corn.
Across the blue
Her white steeds race,
Drawing her duvet,
Soft and grey
Across the harsh sun’s face.
Then the explosion of life!
She skips and dances
And teases the waterhole
Back to life.
The excited dust prances,
Jumping and bouncing
To greet her.
She dips her brush into the rainbow,
And with the swoosh of her hand
Paints the colour of promise
Across the land.
Now a blush of green
Where once the river did not flow
And grass struggled to grow.
The parched brown sand
Now a colourful band
Playing to the rhythm of her drum.
Flowers lift their face
To her embrace,
Their petals flushed and full.
At last the rain came!
She came and she danced
On the dying land;
She kissed and awoke
The heart of joy
And drummed the song of tomorrow.
Read other poems by SHARON HEANEY STANSFIELD
Lie withered and dried
On the hard, cracked ground.
Suspended life
Reflected in vacant stares,
Waiting by the slimy edge
Of the waterhole womb;
Hardly noticing
The callous wind
Leaching life’s song
From the dying corn.
Across the blue
Her white steeds race,
Drawing her duvet,
Soft and grey
Across the harsh sun’s face.
Then the explosion of life!
She skips and dances
And teases the waterhole
Back to life.
The excited dust prances,
Jumping and bouncing
To greet her.
She dips her brush into the rainbow,
And with the swoosh of her hand
Paints the colour of promise
Across the land.
Now a blush of green
Where once the river did not flow
And grass struggled to grow.
The parched brown sand
Now a colourful band
Playing to the rhythm of her drum.
Flowers lift their face
To her embrace,
Their petals flushed and full.
At last the rain came!
She came and she danced
On the dying land;
She kissed and awoke
The heart of joy
And drummed the song of tomorrow.
Read other poems by SHARON HEANEY STANSFIELD
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