PRAYERS OF A FARMER
The sun bursts over the horizon,
Already scorching.
Turning to brown
Whatever it's rays touch upon.
The crops lie dying.
Burnt money on hollow stocks.
A year's livelihood
Come to 'naught.
God! Will it ever rain?
The cattle now
Brown hides on skeletal racks.
Heads lowing side to side.
Searching for fortitude
Tongues protrude.
Moving carcasses on the hoof.
God! Where is the rain?
~~*Deb. Broad*~~
