Poetry | Righteous Rain

At last, the earth’s thirst
sucked and sunk; globed and weighted
water had bombed here – fed dry roots,
roasted leaves and staunch fumes of honeycomb ashes.
Where were nimble-bleating lambs
and pork-bellied grunts?
At home,
I’d stuff bagfuls of hard
kernels, ripe to the seed,
waiting for the shakes and hits
of nested squirrels. Only,
nature was like a cavern
of rasped tongues.
Then one summer’s morning,
belled clouds spat
their first spits
of water. With ticking time,
the spits became drips,
then fat globs pulsed
through the cracked earth.
Slopped
onto the soup;
water, like eggs of life,
revives the stock-still.

Anna Quartly is sixteen years old and home-educated. Her poetry has previously been published in Iceberg Tales and Wotton Times Newspaper. Anna is also writing an autobiography and performs at a local poetry event, Re-verse.
Twitter: @AnnaQuartly

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 )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google 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 )

Connecting to %s