The Year of the Great Drought, 2011 and the Year of the Great Border Conflict, 2014
The year of the drought -- When the lawns died, When the frogs didn't show, When the fires did come -- I walked along the drying stream, Seeing the mud turn to clay. I walked through the fields, Seeing the dirt crack. Then the grass dried up and The dirt opened from cracks to crevices, Breaches in the ground Where I fit my fingers. I thought of the frogs, the crawfish, Wondered how they would survive. Weeks turned to months with no rain. The creeks withered. Turtles disappeared, Dark ponds became dark holes. Cormorants looked in vain for fish Where no fish were. The crackling grass caught fire and News crews rushed, too late, only To find the volunteer fire department Had arrived and watered the brush Enough. Decimation. One in ten trees died that year. All were hit, but the pines stressed early. Their stress invited the beetles, The beetles consumed mercilessly. I lost two 60-foot pines that year, Paid teams of Hi...