At dVerse Frank is hosting Haibun with an invitation to write about the eagle.
“Fierce eagles do not produce timorous doves.” Horace
The Drought
45c and the road, straighter than straight, rolling beyond what the rusted sign advised. Blues, liquid, twelve bar, driving through this dry land. Paddocks hollow and stricken, rain forsaken for so long now, nothing holds in this dust. Crows picking the eyes out of everything that ceases to move, that cadaver buffet for pall bearers. The gates blur in fifth, the barbed wire whispers strained songs of lament and I weep as I pass the delusion of hope trying to bale non-existent hay, the sadness of twenty bales to a hundred acres. And I weep for this place where endings complete and there are no obvious beginnings. I slow as I see the spectre eyeing emaciated sheep. The angel of death eyes me and I nod in deference, better an ending than tortured horizons. I wave my blessing, thankful that the feathered euthanasia will ease the shepherds pain. In this moment the eagle is surgeon, priest and mourner, holding a ritual, taking death for life.
Life now surrendered throat offered for sacrifice feathered friend loves life ©Paul Vincent Cannon
parallax 
Tragic, but beautifully-written and empathetic haibun, Paul. ❤ Destruction by drought is as sad as other natural disasters, but we have to suffer longer watching it happen. Take care. ❤
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Thank you Cheryl, yes, drought is awful to watch and leaves so much devastation. That year suicides were noted as a response to debt and farm losses, nature here is very fragile too so everything is affected so deeply. The farmer I passed would have had to pay a high price just to go through the motions.
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🙂
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You’ve captured the tragedy of drought in such a way it grips the heart. The final stanza is riveting.
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Thank you Beverly, it was a particularly deep, emotional experience that day.
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Sad but well penned!
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Thank you Rob, yes, it was the worst couple of years.
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Truly powerful
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Many Thanks Ana 🙂 Very kind.
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Tragic commune with nature, where everyone is on the same page. I pray never to witness a drought as you describe.
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It was soul destroying, powerless to do much.
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A gripping piece and a good look at reality. Splendid piece!
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Thank you so much Eugenia.
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Most welcome, Paul.
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Very powerful and very up to date in our unpredictable climates.
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Yes, we live in difficult and changing times, we really need to be aware and active, thank you so much.
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I felt that drought. Sometimes we need to look at the reality of nature full in the face.
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We sure do Liz, it is trying to get our attention.
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Drought still lives with us in many parts of Australia, Paul. There is a lot of grief and slim pickings.
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Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.
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I wrote my response to this prompt about wedge tails as well. 🙂
So good to have rain this year – I hope you’ve had some too. This time last year our dam was dry, this summer it’s overflowed.
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Well, the poem was looking back to a bad couple of years in Merredin but not when I was farming. When we did farm, we were so fortunate to be in a safe rainfall area near Northam, so we did not live with that awful reality, but many of our family friends sure have and it is so horrible as you also know. So glad to hear your damn has water, such a great thing. Thank you for sharing Kate 🙂
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Evocatively written, Paul.
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Thank you Ken.
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Cheryl’s comment nailed it.
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🙂
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It very Interesting reading this poem 😉Drought driven by Tragic is sad but loved how you emphasized Drought👍Great Poem Mr Paul🤓
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Yes, so tragic, and lasting trauma for many, thank you so much for your response.
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Your Welcome🤓
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Wow took me back – powerful and sobering poem
>
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Yes, those Merredin days
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Spectacular poem, Paul
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Thank you so much for that Pat.
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