Hilda Oakley

Australian author and poet

   Aug 22

After the rains

The temperature was soaring across the dry, scorched, arid plain,
breathless shoots and limpid shrubs cried out unto the rain,
heat so thick it trembled, mirages all around,
locals new conditions were ripe and fire bound.

the inevitable happened – a ‘dead’ cigarette still glowed,
Igniting roadside scrub-line which was ready to explode,
It devoured all the brittle plants, and fed upon the plain,
While raging winds fanned flames and sparks, that scattered across the terrain.

Wafting on the summer air, exudes a sulphure-like smell,
a warming that the townsfolk knew, like living on the edge of hell,
the flames they kept on roaring, leaping higher and much higher,
thick grasses, dried and withered; now fuelling up the fire.

the flora, exquisite and rare, was beautiful to see,
Now buried in the ashes, swallowed by the enemy.
Watching the vegetation, shrubs, trees one by one,
exploding, crackling and burning down, all knew it had to come.

against all odds, the mighty, strong southerly winds came,
bringing with it lightning, thunder and refreshing rain,
flames which once were building high, reduced now to a haze,
giving promise to the land of better living days.

It was like a miracle, the rain came teeming down,
Sodden deeply was the earth, drenched the sunburnt ground,
Soon the little green shoots appeared, wanting to survive,
large patches of green in the ashes, now coming alive.

a joy to all the townsfolk, their prayers answered at last,
embracing now the welcome rain, gone is the dry past,
paddocks of lush green pastures sprung, flourished and then grew,
once again a riot of colour, a truly beautiful view.

there was overwhelming laughter and much dancing in the street,
everyone was rejoicing, each had their own true beat,
Swaying to the left, sometimes swinging on the right,
Celebrating the welcome rain, well into the night.

(C) Copyright 2011 Eunice Hilda Oakley

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