Desert

The sun is brighter nowadays. Back then
It shone only as warmly as it wanted
Down in the tropics, not up here, where fen
And bog were rife. But now the place seems haunted
By sunshine, which won't leave the land alone:
It dries up what was fertile, dripping, wet,
Cracking the dust where once the crops were grown,
And even where the marshlands had been set
Is now almost deserted by the birds
Who find no place to swim or dive for food.
Now there is nothing but the massive herds
Of buzzing insects burrowing and crude
Which cover everything when there is rain
And disappear again when waters drain.