terrypetersen

We don’t inherit the earth from our ancestors, we borrow it from our children. (Native American proverb)							

AFTER DROUGHT SUMMER

Gray clouds leak a drop, then two
onto pavement, earth, grass, trees
a promise of rain, nothing more

as autumn leaves, brown, curled, dried,
fall long before their golds and reds mature.
More clouds gather and saturate the sky 

into one gray mass, yet their efforts yield 
only a few drops before wind drives them out,
and the stubborn sun

summons them into the air again.
A sweet gum allows tinges of red on one branch.
A maple opens a side to scarlet; an oak chooses yellow.

Statements of power. Courage. Survival.
Beauty born in scarcity,
then magnified by it.