Yellow and brown heads downcast,
bodies slouch. A slow death:
light drains liquid from their bodies
leaves them limp and fragile.
They tremble as winds rustle;
black birds cool their wings
under wilting umbrellas.
A dust bowl buzzes, gathers dirt
and slings it onto their lopped heads
leaving dirty faces.
A squall creeps across arid land
as they scream for mercy. Raindrops hit
their mops, muddy liquid runs down
expectant faces and they beg for more.
Soon, their bodies lift, stand at attention,
as Sunflowers pop up to guard the land.
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