Dr Abe V Rotor
Cumulus cloud hovers over parched field.
What promise has the sky to bring,
if cumulus cloud in the morning,
into wispy feathers die,
leaving the land bone dry?
What promise has the land to the sky,
if the first raindrops to vie,
into a shroud of mist hang
and die with the rising sun?.
What promise has rain to the earth
if flood by its very birth
destroys what it builds,
leaving but ruined fields.
Promise a treaty in a duo, indeed,
yet paled by mutual bid;
and long before it's resolved
the world has grown too old. ~