Caprock Summer

Caprock summer, dusty, hot and dry,
Unrelenting heat in arid land,
Searing summer sun in cloudless sky,
Desolate red clay and lifeless sand,

Cattle seek the scrawny mesquite tree,
Its meager shade sun’s piercing rays allay,
Scattered grassy clumps their only feed,
Where cactus, sagebrush grow in sterile clay,

With squeaky whirr the windmill blade goes round,
Propelled by radiant stir of midday heat,
A healing stream from deep within the ground,
Is pumped by wooden shaft with rhythmic beat,

Empty rural schoolhouse sits forlorn,
Waiting for the Autumn bell to ring,
Children do their chores in early morn,
Then run for swimming holes to find relief,

Natives eke out lives both bare and grim,
Cold in winter and in summer hot,
Buffeted by weather’s fickle whims,
In barren Caprock land that God forgot.

© 050905 Petit Poet