The great divide
You write me images
Of fragile
snowflakes,
Surfing the changing winds,
As they layer the ground.
You paint me pictures,
Of ice roads,
And driveways piles of snow,
You whisk me up on alpine snow.
Posting your ice images,
On your computer screen,
That becomes the great divide between,
You and me ─ south of the equator.
I sit here under the Southern sun,
Dripping with sweat as I tap the keys,
I see snowflakes as instant water,
As they float into our great divide. . .
The heat is descending,
Mixing with moisture,
Becoming humid turning to steam,
As the mercury continues to rise. . .
Here across in southern quarters,
The air begins to dry,
As the gusts blow,
A little too close to the ground,
The sweat continues to drip,
Down my face, around my neck,
Sliding down the spine on my back,
As the mercury continues to rise. . .
Sending your snowflakes,
Across the computer divide,
To wet the dry air,
That brings distress to so many.
Sizzling in the summer sun,
The earth dries, hardens and cracks,
Force of hot, dry winds build,
As the mercury continues to rise. . .
The winds lower closer to ground,
As the dry earth begins to cracks,
The dust meets the wind in air,
Here across the divide pray for rain.
Wishing you send me snow
Across the divide between you and me,
To wet the air and settle the dust,
As the mercury continues to rise. . .
Though the moist all but gone,
My sweat continues to pour,
As airs dries and the ground cracks more,
Send us rain without lightening please!
Dust flies and winds roar,
Light no fires today,
We need no smoke to mix with dust,
As the mercury continues to rise. . .
No ambers! No sparks!
Not even lighting we need today!
If only snowflakes could drift the divide,
We have no fear bush fires would arrive!
Debbie Chilton © Copyright 2014
