Waiting For The Rain

dead grass
cracking face of the earth
cinder stones
parched paths
thatched roof of the house
at the foot of
the tired body of the hills
dried creeks
rivers that run dry
wells without
drops of water left
hands in prayed
angel without wings
all these chant in prayer
waiting for
the first rain after a long drought
of summer

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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