A little too little, a little too late

     for crunchy brown lawns and fields of sickly corn.

August rain.

         Heat didn’t help. Heat rarely does,

   not like this.

                         Parched.

We wake when we sleep, then wake up wondering.

     Another day of humidity, give-and-take forecasts,
     and questionable economic news. Speculation.

         The lies we must live with, and the hope,

       so little evidence.

                     Puddles were temporary most of the time,
         this year

                             dry as dust.

                    Drought.

         Precipitation,
         evaporation,

rain less of a problem than more of a solution.

                      This year

when it happens, it happens.

Untimely response. Unfortunate.

         While we wait for an answer.

© 2022 j.g. lewis

“August rain: the best of the summer gone, and
the new fall not born. The odd uneven time.”
                                         -Sylvia Plath