Rhyme Me A Smile: drought

Saturday, September 6, 2014

Water Rustlers

by Rachel Hoyt

image by vectorolie via freedigitalphotos.net

The city's their range.

The drops are their gold.

The funnel of change

Is their stout stronghold.

They fight to hydrate

Their people, their land.

They know the flood gates

Are in white gloved hands.

Water is now such a rare commodity

that the black market wants to bottle a sea.

Saturday, March 15, 2014

The Dowser

by Rachel Hoyt

A farmer was pondering his crops,

wondering how much the drought would chop,

when appeared a man

with wands in both hands -

a drip who claimed he felt the drops.

The farmer refused to believe

the honesty of his blind weave

until his wand struck

a hydrant, by luck,

and he said, "Plant here - a tough sieve."

to find water from somewhere other than The Man.