In January dirt,
a rattlesnake awake
warming in the road.
No grass, hawks wait on rocks,
falcons on cow chips,
close to the ground squirrels.
Winter haze, Great Blue statues
watch mounds at their feet
across bare landscapes
designed with black lines
following flakes of alfalfa,
no two the same—
while coyotes come
to the house for help—
but we cannot bring the rain.
drycrikjournal 
Love this Haiku approach. But don’t like what you are having to go through to inspire this poem. Already missing you and Robbin in Elko.
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I know, I know. Not sure what we’re going to do about any of it. We’re in the plodding mode, keeping our heads down, staying monotonously busy, trying not to think about missing our friends and family. The notion of a rain seems so foreign to me now. But glad you liked the Haiku, Meg, exploring other ways to express the dry, inside and out. xxoo
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While I love the haiku… my heart is breaking for you guys and WE MISS YOU.
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Glad you liked the Haiku, an experiment you know that I’m still digesting. The ‘stark’ part seems to fit, but a weather change today, a pair of pelicans, wind and clouds despite the fair weather forecast. Yeah, we’re disappointed that we won’t see you next week, but maybe it’ll get too wet to plow and we’ll have to visit higher ground after the calves are marked.
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