Farmer’s Lamentations

The moon is partially hidden

By spots of dark clouds

The heaven wept washing

the grime of the earth

At the end of summer.

 

While the ground is thirsting for the rain,

The air braces for cold air

And warmth pitting against each other.

 

The farmer’s prayer was heard

Or that deep ritual uttered once a year.

 

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s