Broken at Last

Drought splinters with first drop of rain
needle-sharp,cold
Clouds collapse their great grey bosoms,
releasing torrents sucked up
by earth of summer scorching.

Day shivers awake,sodden,
almost afraid it's a dream.
Trees and bushes are recast
in ornate shininess
like green stands of the nouveau riche*
Tin-odour tang
of fresh rain stings my nostrils
as I emerge,
feel this baptiser flow over my head,
stream down my body.

My bare feet squelch
through grasses a I dance
in the drought-breaker,
my faith in nature restored
by this lush wetness
rinsing away doubt and fear

By Dawn Bruce
*people who are newly rich
(From ICAS,class 8 year 2009 page 6)