harest time

Harvest Time

The fall landscape, in my valley, is olive drab,
soil’s rusty, where ploughed, pale as sun bleached
straw where earth is left untilled. Carob beans, Olive
and Almonds are ripe, it’s time to pick them now.

New roads snakes across the vale as black mambas,
older roads look like shed skin of serpents left to
shrivel, since few care to drive on unkempt roads
leading to a forsaken group of homeless houses.

The heat is empty hangs around, with nowhere to
go till a cooling northerly blows it back to Africa.
We wait for tanker clouds of rain to come unload
their cargo and make the land fertile once again