Harvest or Hurricane

Harvest and Hurricane

A farmer stands and gaze at the lush green crops,

Tall and ready for harvest his amazing crops,

They sway at the gentle breeze,

As though happy to be free.

In a week or two the harvest will be ripe,

It’s still too early to dance in hype,

The pearls of labour will bear rewards,

The crops need sunshine for this week onwards.

Then the forecast for the region changes,

Sun hides and dark cloud emerges,

It’s no ordinary drizzle that’s causes no harm,

Weatherman predict a hurricane, a destructive storm.

Farmhand watches helplessly as rain pours in buckets,

Ripe pick collecting water in every pocket,

Days and days of relentless onslaught,

All yeomen could do, was stand distraught.

Time flows out with receding rain,

Land covered with half ripe grains,

Stalks lie flat on the ground,

But moneylenders already at the door, ready to hound.

Eventually the heart heals,

Tears give way to steel,

Farmer decides on the seed next,

Tills the land for yet another picking best.

Soon the saplings grow tall,

Ripened pearls of grain ready to fall,

This time yeomen harvests the crops,

No hurricane destroyed his crops.