Into the Furnace

A hot dry wind
Blows across the Plains
Sucking the lifeblood of the prairie
In its searing blast.
The succulence
Of the rain engorged leaves
Is gone and the withered remains
Curl into grayish husks
Of their former selves.
Yet on the horizon
Tower the billowing
Marshmallow shapes of
Cumulus clouds reaching through
The heat blasted hole into the
Cooler air above
Where the hailstones form.
Relief comes at a price.