And the tide withdrew and left

An ugly mark upon the sand.

Rocks reared their rugged heads

And pebbles spread themselves across the strand.

Limp seaweed slowly dried itself beneath

The hot rays of the noonday sun.

One could almost hear the creak and groan

Of this parched, dry land.

But came an inner longing bringing change

That could not end when once begun.

From the four corners of this dread scene

Came a cool, sweet-scented, loving wind,

Fanned through dead grasses,

Drifting in aimless eddies up the heated headland,

Mimicking the movements of the distant sea.

Tufts of white cloud appeared –

Straying, lost sheep searching

The far horizon, then spreading and enlarging,

Gradually gathering speed to dance

Across he wide expanse of blue

Giving promise of cleansing, cool

Rain to come.