Submission

piled pots of sand drip, at each gasping mouths pass
strangled dry roots scrabble, as winds scourge past
dead blown sky's burn, hard shadows colour-fast
gagging swallowed moisture, from air radio-cast

spatial winds roil, summoning pressed corded clouds
moisture spirals down, is this years last
kicking dust around, for an anomalous sultry root
but no life threads tangle, the torn corners of your boot

sweat lines tease, moist memories from a past
glittering lakes, loch ends, meres and rivers fast
handfuls, remembrance, cold pools liquid-gold-panned
now every drip treasure, coveted gently in your hand