Jack County--Drought
by Ann Howells



we walk the red dog quarry
__iron rich shale
__that paves
__ __these reddish roads

no dark clouds skim our heads
__tiny white puffs
__float & disappear
we speak bitterly of drought
__crops stunted withered
__ground parched

radio announces
__a three inch rain--
__drops fell three inches apart
an old joke
__we no longer find funny







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