Dust to dust

The rooster's voice cracks mid cock-a-doodle,
The palm trees loose their pride;
The hot breeze brings negative relief,
And the jungle waits for rain.

The Iguana searches for a shady pool,
The river stalls then reverses;
The off-white clouds melt into a haze,
And the jungle waits for rain.

The buses stampede past the boiling school,
The students stare into their ice dreams;
The laundry collects a coat of dust,
And the jungle waits for rain.

The throat begs silently for something cool,
The damp skin is gritty to touch;
The eyes burn from the billowing smoke,
And I am waiting for rain.