Just a few dwindling pools remain
in what was once the river bed.
Three years and more without rain.
Most of my livestock long since dead.
Yet still I have to struggle on
I have no choice no place to go
All of my men have packed and gone,
To where the deeper rivers flow.
Each evening I pray for rain
I won’t surrender to despair.
I’m not too old to start again.
No man can win who does not dare.
The storm clouds gather overhead.
Perhaps in answer to my prayer.
This time release much needed rain.
There’s water, water everywhere.
The river fills and overflows.
The arid earth drinks greedily.
The drought is over: Heaven knows
I’ve had my share of misery.
I face the future confident
That I can do what must be done
Determination and intent
are all I have I will go on.
I will build up my stock and then
I will employ some jackaroos.
To help me run the place again
much needed help that I can use.
But for the present work alone.
My nearest neighbour’s miles away
There is so much that must be done.
Enough to fill each working day.
When evening comes I will give thanks.
Unto my maker gratefully.
The river flows between its banks.
And all is as it ought to be.
09/07/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com.poeticpiers