Do you feel her presence? 
The wind dry they're
Sweeping dust into space
The plants looking pale 
Begging for water
The pastures yelling at the heavens  
The oceans reducing to a pint 
Humidity is less 
The clouds cry no more
Tear glands empty are they  
November, her forerunner 
Brings her forth 
Dry is the season
Harmattan is approaching
Bryce Paul Matthias                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
 
                    