Dreams are dashed
Plans that were made are now aborted.
The scorching sun bakes the landscape bare.
Animals starve – want everywhere.
They search for grass but there’s nothing there.
New born lambs so weak they fall –
Their mothers have left them –
They’ve no milk at all.
The swirling dust blots out the light,
It fills our eyes and blinds our sight.
As creeks and dams begin to dry,
I see it all – and wonder – why?
Nature sometimes makes us cry.
Misfortune seems to plague this land.
We’ve always got some strife at hand!
But farmers know – one day it will rain,
And when it does, they’ll rejoice again.
By Warren Tanner