The Parched Earth
Gentle winds wisp across the autumn plains as
I stare beyond the vast wilderness, and think.
Too long has the sun parched ground gone without a taste of rain.
Trees and bushes once lush from the touch from Natures glory, have shriveled, and Are burned from the sun’s deadly rays.
Woe is this parched land, crying out for the touch of Nature’s gentle rain,
It cries out for the quenching thirst of moisture, to relieve the sun’s severity.
Then, the Heavens open their flood gates,
Rain falls like a river flowing on the open grounds, touching all, and healing all that it touches.
Praise be to Nature’s compassion, all has been saved from a sure death.