Pleading Parched Land Thirsts For Water

Parched land thirsts for water
As hot sun beats down mercifully
Sending hot waves of air
to suck up moisture from the land.

Land begs the sun to turn down heat
But, ignore goes the pleads
As sun sends more humid, hotness down
For land now cracking dry under heat.

When will the clouds come?
For sky is a naked blue ocean
With no clouds in the sky
No, rain comes for parched thirsty land.

Land wait and wait each day
Pleading for an end from sun rays
But, no answer will come
Until there is a change in the wind.

The Glosa Brook

By thirty hills I hurry down,
Or slip between the ridges,
By twenty thorpes, a little town,
And half a hundred bridges.
— The Brook by Lord Alfred Tennyson

I stream gleaming sparkling in the sun
Gurgling with bubbles I slowly meander
My way through thick dark forests
Catching a pebble or two along the way
Carrying it beyond to another place
To chat with before sundown
I relax listening to the birds
Hearing their sweet songs as I pass on my way
I weave in and out around town
By thirty hills I hurry down,

Reach the bottom in roaring current
Only in another mile abate to almost stillness
I continue my journey onward to the end
Until then a fork in the path
Which way will I go from here?
Take the right to where I slip under bridge
Wide and wooden with planks as old as time
I bid adieu, a slowly plod is my pace
I continue to weave in and out along the fringes
Or slip between the ridges,

Down I go; I can wander far
I change my course slowly in time
Slight deviant I change my flow
Can see new locations from different angle
I continue my journey to far off lands
I make great progress to go around
A bend with trees that’s up ahead
I stream myself forward
To will make a call down
By twenty thorpes, a little town,

Quiet it lies as I go by
Town sleeps before the dawn breaks
I pass in silence to finish my journey
To great ocean that lies beyond
But before I get there I will see
Wide hilly fields and high ridges
Down and around I go on
Pick a few pebble friends as I go
They move along with to see more ridges
And half a hundred bridges.

Her Tears Upon The Ground

She weeps her tears upon the ground
Sadness fills her soul
Puddles form from her tears
Lakes, rivers rise to overflow
She is in distress
What has happen to her world?
Chaos regins to the west
Caps of ice melt in the north and south of poles
The east in a mode of change
She struggles to make sense
Cries out to those few that listen
They take heed even through they’re few
But it’s not enough to stop what may come to pass
As she watches her world disappearing
Through her crying eyes

Organic Garden On Soil

Plant after the frost is best
Organic gardener has more awareness
A fine balance where species coexist
Grow diversity of plants
Will build mini ecosystem of pest and predators

Soil fertility maintained by recycled matter
Enrich soil with animal manure
Or even dead or rotting vegetation
This will provide nourishment to the soil

Gardening with nature
Digging, seeding, watering will come in hand
Dig to give air to soil
Seeding more seeds will germinate
Water is where a garden will survival

Harvest will bring rewards
Abundant and rich and varied foods
Take well; give the soil time
And watch your garden grow

April 22 prompt from this site http://www.napowrimo.net/