I compose a humble prayer for rain
The paper drinks my ballpoint dry
Below a sheet of baking tin 

In the steaming thicket locusts drone
Like monks they murmur
Invocations for a cool shower?
Maybe.
Who knows what locusts want.

Food, obviously
Locusts are always hungry
“They will cry out with shouts of victory”

A plague of drought descended earlier
It’s too too late for supper
Our crops wither

Down the highway rolls the swarm
Gnawing tires whine and hum
Off to McDonald’s or the markets?
Perhaps.
God knows what humans do.

I check my empty refrigerator again
The air is cool like a cloudless sky
Above a sheet of baking tin

My prayer for rain remains unanswered