Brown Grass: Doom

brown grass, no signs of rain,
ripe grains of rice spreading on the ground
the dust reigns like triumphant ant
soldiers, the sun is up, the earth is heated,
the leaves are shedding, the rocks are cracking,
drought comes and stays for months,
under a cave, a dog rests,
smelling death.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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