Withered grass crackles under my feet, and my flip-flops leave a dusty trail en route to the backside of the farm. I am intent on closing a gate, but halfway along I kneel to study wide cracks of parched earth and discover underground ant highways and intersections exposed by the drought.
I rise to the long screech of a red-tailed hawk. He sits high above me in a live oak, and I hear the flutter of giant wings on takeoff. I look up to watch him soar to his favorite perch atop a dead pine that overlooks thirsty pastures, teeming with appetizers of baby rabbits and mice.
Plastered in sweat and dust, I secure the back gate and try to spit a salty, metallic taste from my mouth, but I’m dehydrated and only manage to fire a pathetic chain of spittle toward the sun.
Nothing but dirt scents the air. Grit has lodged in my nostrils as I follow the same dusty path back to the house. A few low-level clouds have gathered. But I’m skeptical. Every afternoon, clouds congregate to tease a chance of showers. Then right after sunset, the stingy sky-angels dissipate and take with them my incantations for rain.
Fat droplets of water from their gray bellies are what I long for. A widespread downpour that hammers for hours to animate birds, fill the ditches, hatch mosquitoes, incite a frog symphony, douse wildfires, flood trails, and green back the ravaged fields and the trees.
Photo by Denis Collette, Creative Commons license via Flickr. Post by Darrelyn Saloom, co-author of the upcoming memoir, My Call to the Ring.
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Beautiful!I love the way you move in and out of interior and exterior landscape.
Thank you, Jodi. I’m still moving in and out of my sleepy world down here on central standard time. Nice to wake up to your comment.
Powerful imagery, as always Darrelyn.
Thank you, Barbara. I’d love to hear from you. Where are you in world these days?
I want a tall glass of cool water and a bath after reading this. I know that dry, dusty heat so well. You describe it beautifully.
Thanks, Jessica. Hope you quench your thirst.
Maybe if our landscape hears your landscape’s incantations…
ah.
We’ve got so much rain we hardly know what to do with it. When is someone going to invent a rain funnel?
It stormed after I wrote this piece. Chance of rain every day this week.
Laura, oh, how the Ozarks need that funnel to lead straight down here…
And that last magnificent sentence, Darrelyn, is a reminder of why I read every damn thing you write. So so rich and poetic.
Thanks, Dave. I’d been thinking of you and everyone out west when I used the word “wide-spread.”
What a lovely new voice here at TSP! Beautifully complemented by Collette’s photo. “Incantations” is such an evocative word.
A headline in today’s paper indicated we’re 7.5 inches below the level we need to overcome the drought here. I’ll take steady showers but not more of that phenomenon known as derecho.
Thank you, Maureen. And thanks to Collette.. I love her photo, too.
Beautiful!!
Thanks for stopping by, Glenda. So glad you enjoyed.
Another wonderful piece. I could taste the dust in my mouth. Love the line “teaming with appetizers of baby rabbits and mice.” Though is does make me cringe for the poor little critters!
I’m surprised you liked that line, Dee. You can’t swat a fly but can knock out an opponent in a boxing ring.
This piece is beautiful. I’m blinking the dust out of my eyes.
I’m not at all surprised the rain arrived the next day. Your words are more powerful than a rain dance!
Ha! Maybe I can coax someone to fly me out west. Thanks, Jenny.
Reading this makes me thirsty too… for more pieces from Darrelyn!
Thank you, Jack. I appreciate your kinds words and for taking the time to leave a comment.
I felt like I was in your backyard staring at the sky, hoping for it to rain. The frog symphony sounds amazing too
I hope you will sit in my backyard one day. You may be surprised how loud frogs and locusts sing around here.
think you can get it to stop raining now?
I’ll try, honey.
As usual, Darrelyn, you take me with you wherever you go when you write! I’m in the center of a dryness, and a hotness, and a weariness of waiting for rain, reading this. I smell the dust, and I thirst for rain. I am your farm as you leave dusty footprints in my dirt. I am the seeds of unsprouted wildness, waiting patiently for my thirst to be slaked, and my green to burst out. Thank you for transporting me there!
Oh, wow, thank you, Ro.
Love your writing Darrelyn. It is so soothing in how you describe your environment. Reminds me to take it all in every chance I get.
Thank you, Hilary. Drop by when the rain stops, and we’ll walk to the backside of the farm.
I enjoyed every word and am thirsty for more.
You are always thirsty, Sally. That’s what I love about you.
As always, I enjoy reading the wonderful way you put your experiences and feelings into words.
Thank you, Carolyn. I’m so glad you enjoyed. Would love to have another reunion at Don’s.
Beautifully written. Reading it felt like a meditation.
Thank you, Jinalo. Such a wonderful name.
Absolutely wonderful! I agree with Deirdre, I love when you refer to the rabbits and mice as being appetizers for the Hawk, great poem!!
Thank you, Hunter. So kind of you to stop by and leave a comment. I’m thrilled you enjoyed the piece.
I stumbled onto this website by accident and I must say, what a pleasant surprise!
Glad you stumbled in, Elenor. Thanks for reading and leaving a comment. Hope you’ll come back to visit.
In the first four paragraphs I can feel the world drawing in and drying up. And then bam, with the first word of the last paragraph–fat–I can feel and see those think droplets of water that you imagine. Lovely.
Aw, thank you, C. So glad you enjoyed. Seems the clouds have been paying me back for calling them “stingy.” It’s been raining every day.
I can almost feel the cloud-heavens open up to bathe you in praise for your poignant, but humble incantations. You just may have conjured the key that unlocks the sky.
You are so kind. Thank you, Christian.
Love the imagery. So much more than visual. Excellent poem, Darrelyn.
Hey, Joe. Thanks for stopping by. So glad you enjoyed.
“Nothing but dirt scents the air” is very powerful for me! Gives me access to so many memories that my words don’t recall… I can’t even describe what that line did to and for me. but, thank you.
My pleasure, Donna. I love the power of words to evoke memories. Sounds like you’ve been through a few droughts.
Let’s just say there are a lot of ‘bald spots’ inside my memory! ;o)
I hear you. Mine, too.
Yes. This is rain; the cleanser, the obscurer, the washer-away of life’s dirt. This is rain. Lovely post, Darrelyn.
Nice! Thank you, David.
Darrelyn, I love this! I can really relate to it too! Thanks for putting this snippet of what drought is like into words for us.
Oops, just saw the rest of your comment.
….because you have to know the drought to understand the blessing of rain! Thanks!
You’re right about that, Cindy. Thanks for stopping by.
Even though you didn’t mention the heat I could still feel it.
You always bring me back into the moment with your wonderful descriptions. That’s such a nice place to be. For some reason I’ve got to go and get a nice cold glass of water!
I love “stingy sky-angels dissipate”. I had to read it again a few times (once out loud just to hear it)
Loved this piece!!
Thank you, LeAnne. Not so stingy lately.
I enjoyed every word. Now we need a little less rain. Mushrooms sprouting in the yard and swarms of mosquitoes. Ah…summer in Louisiana!
Five inches this morning! But it sounded great while tucked between my grandchildren under a tin roof. So glad you stopped by, Sandra. Hope you’ll visit again soon.
You had me at “underground ant highways.” I smell the dirt and hear the flutter of wings. Wonderful piece.
Such a lovely comment to read before I fall asleep. Thank you, Mary.