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Into The Storm
Lowering clouds, burgeoning, bruised;
The air with eerie light is suffused.
An approaching angry, rumbling sound
sends 'roos leaping hurriedly, homeward bound.
The wind gathers strength and sends gust after gust
bearing vast burdens of thick, blinding dust.
The trees begin swaying, the leaves start to fly
and a flock of corellas wings raucously by.
A few drops at first; little craters they form -
steam rises in wisps from soil still sun-warm.
Now small pools puddle upon the ground
and eddies of floaters spin 'round and around.
Rain, blessed rain! And rivulets run
along the ground to join as one
to fill the cracks the sun has dried out,
slaking the thirst after years of drought.
The rain falls heavier, the drops are huge -
It's many a year since such a deluge
has graced this land where one family has dwelt
- with varying fortunes their lives have been dealt.
A flash splits the sky; another, then more
and the wet, driving rain is a mighty downpour -
soaks deep in the dust; into mud now it's changed,
and the heavens bellow like demons deranged.
And whilst the storm rages a vehicle arrives
and through the home gateway a young man drives:
This is his birthright, this farming lad,
bound by his lineage to bide, good or bad.
Here's promise at last for this land that he owns
(although up to his neck in large banking loans)
At least with this rain he can now sew his crop
and perhaps make enough to come out on top…
He crosses the yard with a spring in his stride
to his old family home with verandas so wide -
and this farmer, buoyant with hope and with pride
steps over the threshold, carrying his bride.
Lowering clouds, burgeoning, bruised;
The air with eerie light is suffused.
An approaching angry, rumbling sound
sends 'roos leaping hurriedly, homeward bound.
The wind gathers strength and sends gust after gust
bearing vast burdens of thick, blinding dust.
The trees begin swaying, the leaves start to fly
and a flock of corellas wings raucously by.
A few drops at first; little craters they form -
steam rises in wisps from soil still sun-warm.
Now small pools puddle upon the ground
and eddies of floaters spin 'round and around.
Rain, blessed rain! And rivulets run
along the ground to join as one
to fill the cracks the sun has dried out,
slaking the thirst after years of drought.
The rain falls heavier, the drops are huge -
It's many a year since such a deluge
has graced this land where one family has dwelt
- with varying fortunes their lives have been dealt.
A flash splits the sky; another, then more
and the wet, driving rain is a mighty downpour -
soaks deep in the dust; into mud now it's changed,
and the heavens bellow like demons deranged.
And whilst the storm rages a vehicle arrives
and through the home gateway a young man drives:
This is his birthright, this farming lad,
bound by his lineage to bide, good or bad.
Here's promise at last for this land that he owns
(although up to his neck in large banking loans)
At least with this rain he can now sew his crop
and perhaps make enough to come out on top…
He crosses the yard with a spring in his stride
to his old family home with verandas so wide -
and this farmer, buoyant with hope and with pride
steps over the threshold, carrying his bride.
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