had rain drizzled, earthy smell would’ve filled,
with clouds split, only tears have filled.
clouds have, returned to oceans, to rest.
leaving ourselves, to blame for our fate.
hot hard crusts, diverted, clouds interest,
with no cool green patches, it deserted.
high and dry, poor people are left,
again, has begun the annual quest.
heat boils, on the forehead of their kids,
cool pools, are again a dream in countryside.
bountiful season could have been reserved,
had few more trees, preserved.
remembering wells swelled, once
emotions swell, eyes fill, thence.
© 2015 Hari Prasad S