Friday, June 11, 2010

Dust Bowl

When the river comes
There will be water.
The fields will grow green
Though the sun may grow hotter.

We'll have rich, brunette soil
When the river comes.
The cracks in the desert
Will disappear like phantoms.

These bare crags will become
Soft, rolling, grassy hills--
When the river comes
They'll be bright with daffodils.

My mother sings this song
To the relentless dust storms.
We'll cross over and be happy
When the river comes.

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