The Drought
You drive down
the same country road
every day at dawn
and see through
plumes of dust
this tall thin woman
straight as a scarecrow
in front of a field of corn
holding a hoe like a flag
tugging at a straw hat
and staring at the corn
till she goes in the house
and sits at the table
looks through the window
past ancient curtains
and prays for the deluge
she and Elmer will need
for the slightest harvest