Without Rain

The verdant valley
where we once walked
is a barren wasteland
now that the rain
refuses to fall. Refuses
to nourish our valley.
The gods of the sky
called the gods of the ground.
Mother Earth started a feud
which none want to end.
The stream where we frolicked
is all dried up too.
Only fish bones crushed
into the dirt remain.
Their scales cracked long ago
and peeled off and dissolved
leaving only the chalky spines.