Dry ... (A Poem)

Dry

Leaves aplenty, flowers galore,
Mongrels and the like dance in it

The rap tap of the genorous gift of nature
Tears of the sky pouring through the invisible roof
Nourishing the living and bringing the dying alive,

Everything seems to be soaked
Even the tar pathways, the cement
the four legged charriots, the mortar

All .. except the imposter creator himself
housed in his own cheap imitations of the original...dry

Blissfully unaware of, or maybe in shame...
in front of the brilliance of nature's craft