The tarmac road carving up this landscape 
Spits up dust and dirt on our travels 
A fiery beast of the road 
Ignited by rolling rubber travelling through
Yellow stain soaks this earth 
Baked by the pounding orange sun 
Brown fields splice into wilting triangles 
Deadened crops deserted by all living things 

The greying trees in the far distance  
Itch beneath their bark in the heat
Nothing can flourish here 
But the soul that will stay its course 
For as Autumn arrives 
These deadened lands will perish on their own accord 
And will shed their skin 
With dignity and purpose 

What makes these late august days trying 
Is the inevitability of a great power 
Sheering its mite from above 
Upon an unwilling recipient 
A landscape raped 
Bereft of it’s place
Now learns to survive
These punishing summer days