Squat in the hollows
Of the hills,
There is an ordure
No wind kills.
Flat on the surface
Of the land,
There is a river
Sinks through sand
Down to the bowels
Of the earth,
Leaving a precious
Cause for mirth:
Alkali, salt and a
Gypsum bed
Concentering the
Cattle dead.
After the searing
Of the sun,
Nothing for doing
Is left undone;–
Only the heat waves
In this land
Sardonically dance
A Saraband.
(Norman MacLeod)
More Poetry from Norman MacLeod:
- Trust In God And Do The Right (Norman MacLeod Poems)
- Adumbration (Norman MacLeod Poems)
- Casa Grande: Arizona (Norman MacLeod Poems)
- Rain Sequence (Norman MacLeod Poems)
- Apostrophe (Norman MacLeod Poems)
- Bohobodom (Norman MacLeod Poems)