Source: Own. Somewhere in the Adelaide Hills. Nikon D300 35mm.
Our livestock is dying. The outback's red is drying up; cracking and peeling away. There's a farmer somewhere, his foggy blue eyes scanning the dry horizon.
He watches each day unfold before him, desperately awaiting the overdue rain. Usually he'd wait for the rain with beads of sweat dripping down his back while flies invaded his face. Starring as the sun began its evening dance of orange and ember, transparent waves of heat would dance above the horizon.
But no. It's cold now. Dirty overalls hang inside on the clothes line, crops freeze in the morning.
There's not a drop of rain in sight. The August air is icy yet dry. He's about to shoot his last scrawny sheep. The winter rain is gone, our farmers are helpless.
~
I'm typically a slow, self-critical writer. Nonetheless, Here is my first attempt at @MarianneWest's daily five minute free write prompt. Please let me know what you think below.
Yours,
Jordan.
