Dirt Rain

Deb Foskey

In the absence of rain
storms deliver other elements,
stolen from the grass-poor
and dumped on the lawn-rich;

lifted from bare paddocks
prepared for seed never sown;

whipped from forest graveyards
colonised by ants.

In our city
this dry downpour
brings the bush to town
uninvited.

We turn the hoses
on our windows and driveways

and grubby four wheel drives
sparkle again.

In the absence of rain,
water flows after all,
a rich brew flowing down gutters,
bypassing thirsty plants,
settling where it is least welcome.