Picture for this moment, you’re standing in a dried up creek,
The ground is either cracked open or thick, silty, bull dust ’tis what lies at your feet…
The surrounding flora and fauna is depleted, dying, wilted and weak,
And if all that wasn’t horrific enough summer brings it’s blistering dry heat…
Yet an element of hope comes in a darkening sky over ones head,
Winds start cooling ‘fore adjusting to bring perspectives of just a dust storm to fret,
One can now see nothing other than the outback’s delightfully bold sand’s red,
Then the sky opens up to deluge so in a blink everything’s soaking wet.
Within moments one notices this storm’s starting to ease from its peak,
It’s severity settling in to just a steady intensity that seems rather sweet,
After the destruction it’s already blown and washed in it’s streak,
’Tis now the style of rain some dream of - with a steady, heavy… beat.
Eventually the seraphic rain dissipates to clear skies of blue,
The creek is now again flowing, though it may be rather debris strewn,
Surrounding nature’s replenished though the much cooler weather plays it’s part in that too,
All enjoying each moment of the waters refreshing, resounding tune.
The Poetic Life 2.0 