When rain clouds disperse

Furnace, lit to maximum capacity

The burning heat screaming louder than

The cries of mortal man

Pleading for respite in this arid land

Lo there stands a writhing willow

She weeps no longer

She too has succumbed to

This wrathful blistering fury.

Her dead, beautiful eyes still hold a mystery

Of morning dew and the enchanting

Song of the woodland folk

Blithe and magical.

O earthly man!

Your chameleon hide

But permanent-

Forever tinged

Your soul grows weary

Within your breast

And you carry her instead

You whisper rain clouds gathering

To her and the smell of wet

She clings onto you, poor babe

She longs to cool her tongue.

A drop of hope, then another

Enough to sustain her till the morrow

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