Drought makes the workers dream

Muscles and fields of green

Shovel the last few crumbs

Of generosity

Open hearts, open mind, open mouth, open vein

Drain

Someday the rains will come

My blistered hands tell me

Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow

BITE

BITE

BITE

CRY

I'll keep coming back

Smaller and smaller and smaller

Squash me

Smaller and smaller and smaller

Under the charity

Smaller and smaller and smaller

Under the topsoil

Smaller and smaller and smaller

Under the fingernail

Smaller and smaller and smaller

Then small becomes all becomes all..........

BITE

BITE

BITE

CRY

It's not a mirage

It's not a mirage

Trickling downward, trickling downward

It's not a mirage

Drain

Drain

BITE

BITE

BITE

CRY