seems tucked away
bordered by nice beaches
across the broad expanse of blue
breezes blow and blow
absorbing moisture, by the bucket
As winds are bound to do
they circle round
and move on paths
ordained by some mysterious hand
On their way
the prairie greets them
and there they drop their load
Sometimes welcome
to salve the thirsts
of growing flower and fauna
and sometimes, yes
they get carried away
…the buckets are too many!
The dark clouds roll
the thunder booms and lightning flashes
as rain pounds the waiting soil
raining raining raining
it keeps coming coming coming
until rivers form
and hurry away
overflowing banks and flooding lowlands
the waters cover the earth
The prairie becomes
ten thousand lakes
with water rushing down
lifting soil, moving it too
and making seedlings drown
when nature calls
Not I, the farmer says
he does his best
to tune himself
to all nature has to offer
but sometimes, nature kicks back
and demands her way
the farmer’s bound to watch
helpless, for a time
Grandma offered wisdom
the history of a century
when it’s too wet
she said ‘Be patient”
we’ve always planted corn
and when too dry
she said the same:
“Be patient”
we’ve always harvested here
So, I wait.
I know
His eye is on the sparrow
I know he watches
me
Amazing love
how can it be
that thou my God
should die for me…*
Lin 06/08
*Charles Wesley, “And Can it Be”