Poem: ‘Of a many dry Valley’

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By Michael Finch 

Valencia resident

Winds whip off dry grass and barren hills, 

dust swept and fires afar smoke down 

and scented strong, a land parched and scarred. 

Jack rabbits race, coyotes hunt and hawks sore,  

lakes lowered, land thirsting, rainfall scattered away, 

across mountains far and north, 

spent and brittle, sun baked, and haunting. 

God’s no mercy for fools and greed spent 

we dig deep, waste, persevere, defy and  

fight and fall, given back to earthly deep.   

But comes a sunrise, amid a deepening dark  

and morning sky afire, rains awash 

from Pacific storm blown fast  

and drench our thirsting and waiting souls. 

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