Storm Clouds

false friend,

nuage d'orage,

scent of distant rain.

here the land lies

parched,

arid,

empty

of all but dust

and hope

while the horizon

tantalizes,

teasing,

mocking,

and wells and reservoirs

run dry.

just a few drops

would soothe my thirst,

wet another week

of wishing,

hoping,

longing

for things that cannot be,
but no salvation

from the sky,

deus ex nubi,

(caritas),

will be mine

today.

seco

sitis

siccitas

I approach the empty cistern

with a storm cloud in my heart.

This is a Sunday Scribblings post.