Where Poets dream and Cry poetry challenge

I feel it in my water -

The wind leaves its spore, 

About the desert floor,

The sand takes flight and tumbles.

The mountains, back there,

claw moisture from air,

The land, left dry and humbled.

The leaves they all went,

Left the tree bowed and bent,

Dreaming of greener pasture.

The grasses remain,

A yellowed green stain,

Memory, life, love, laughter.

A fire will spread,

Changing living, to dead,

Burning, faster and faster.

The unyielding fear,

Of another drought year,

Proof that water's the master.