Hey, how is everyone? I'm quite fine, thanks for asking. I just helped cut down a branch the size of a small tree. Yes, I am exhausted. But I'm still writing!
This was a collaboration of… a lot of stuff. Inspired by Out of the Dust by Karen Hesse (my favorite author)… I didn't really know where I was going with this, or if the poetry was any good.
Waning Winter
Jinn warned
That when Spring came
I couldn't get my hopes up,
That we would have to leave.
He said there wasn't much hope,
He warned there wasn't much of a chance.
I didn't know what he was talking about.
The new season
Is a happy time for him.
When the dark snow melts
And cascades down the hills,
F
A
L
L
I
N
G
Into valleys
Around crevices and rocks.
He's always happy now.
But with this Spring
On this world
He's not.
I wonder why, but he doesn't say anymore.
I'll have to wait.
Changes
One week later
The temperature climbed.
I've never seen it rise so fast;
From bitter-windy hypothermic cold
To perfect, shoulder-warming heat.
That's when
The snow
Was always melting.
At first it came in little drips;
Tiny splatters were all you could hear outside.
Then the north winds were pushed out
And the south wind rolled in
It rained.
It poured.
And a little more snow came;
But just flurries
On one odd day out.
After a harsh winter
Even I didn't want to see it.
Worsening
More melting. Everything.
Even the trees; curving 'till they brushed the ground
Unaccustomed to such conditions.
Master said
I should watch the rain more closely.
So I did.
Understanding the Worst
Dirty
Wasted
Stinging
Foul drops
From the
Foul factories
Of the southern part.
Melting
Is supposed to help
Life regenerate.
It didn't.
Not here.
I don't think it ever did.
Desert wasn't supposed to be desert.
Dust was supposed to be grass.
Foul Tears
It's all puddles of rot
Nothing has grown back,
Because nothing wants to drink acid.
You can find a few unfortunate creatures
Collapsing in the dirt.
Jinn
Hates this.
I've seen him so low,
But never like this.
He'll stand out in the rain
That life can't stand,
That's hacked it to pieces
And turned it all to sand.
It's spring, but winter
All over again.
He'll stand with his head to the sky
Until he starts to cry.
Pity I wrote this on such a beautiful first day of Spring. Well, hope you all like it. Or maybe you thought it was amateur-ish and cliché. I would love to know. Please review.