Trying to raise a living
from this land.
Looking to the horizon,
and praying
that the rain comes,
but only just enough
to let the fields
grow.
This land,
is a God forsaken dust bowl,
whipped by the wind,
scourged by the Sun.
This past two years,
the rains came,
and turned everything to mud.
We fight with thieves,
and politicians,
bankers, cowards,
and the rest.
The Sun comes up,
and we start another day
hoping we can keep
the place we lay our heads.
The days run away with us,
and soon,
the summer will be gone,
and all our dreams
follow close behind.
The seasons change,
and we get by
day to day,
but I notice
that there’s fewer
of our kind.
Keep watching the sky.
The horizon is the only thing
that’s never lied.
They Sun comes up there,
and that’s where it shall return.
Every single day,
we earn.
HG – 2020
