Dry and dusty byways, dried up river beds.

Cool clear water runs no more, cracking mud instead.

Hot and sticky tarmac, on the motorways.

Overheated engines, cause holiday delays.

Suddenly the drifting clouds, cast their welcome shade.

Soon the children on the beach, leave the games they played.

People fleeing from the rain, crowd the Bingo Halls.

Wilting flowers thankful, for every drop that falls.

Syncopated raindrops, on a summer day,

Beating empty oil drums what happy tunes they play.

Slowly seeping through the cracks, to replenish natures store.

Once dry and silent, mountain streams, start to sing once more.

Dehydrated river beds, swiftly flow again,

Bringing life's elixir, to the dusty plain.

Meadow grass now scorched and brown, will soon return to green.

Brightly coloured flowers appear, where once dry earth had been.

Like a magic colouring book, the picture is transformed,

By sufficient fall of rain, on ground the sun has warmed.

A gentle shower, and a little sun, will always do more good,

Than science and it's chemicals, used in farming ever could.

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