There are periods of drought

when nothing is green or lush,

except a distant green bush

surrounded by the swirl of dust

and dirt that has never much

seen the patter of joyous rain.

 

And even though I exist in this

time of nothing, still I make one

poem a day, from nothing but duty, 

from nothing less than the will to 

never stop till the rains return.

 

10/11/2020