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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required T’was dry the spring with thunderstorms that rumbled across dry; most every day was under sun or star filled sky, the grass had burnt off early; hay mowed this year was scarce, closed paddocks saved the milkers where grass was becoming less. December, way too early for the drying of the cows. Fodder’s never been this low between a sea of dandelion gold flowers. There’s another hint of thunderstorms with the darkening of the sky; air feels more close and humid than the creek now nearly dry. From eerie still the wind picked up; gusting from the west. Tree tops whirled and circled; dark clouds tumble to infest. The heavens shook the windows; lit time and time again. The tin roof brought a smile with tinkling spots of rain. Rain, oh glorious rain - how long has it been now? Too long is the answer; this refresh too late somehow. Pools soon full; drains they filled; there’s running rivulets. Those pastel colours darken - the countryside all wets. All night long the rain poured down with amazing scenes at dawn. The creek has become an ocean; water hides the homestead lawn. The milking shed is flooded; the milkers herd on higher ground. The border collie’s turning nasty when the cows won’t come on down. Morning milking’s back to winter; an unusual summer cool. After months of dust and flies, cows shiver in a muddy pool. There’s now the signs of worry toward the rising of the creek, with the rain still falling, the water hasn’t reached its peak. Rain - that needed rain. Now the prayer is for respite, as water pours to where it wants, reaching a dangerous height. With the homestead under siege there grows a worried frown; this will be a sleepless night moving cattle up to higher ground. With the milkers on the hills, they must stand in the rain. Their backs are facing to the west from where the rain has came. Calves tended in the bush block, where shelter is the most. For the springers with the bull a threatened paddock is their host. Help has arrived to ease the pain; this disaster’s out of order. There is no time to weep or cry as the home fills up with water. Evacuate becomes the call, for lost is all defence. The farming signs as they move out are top strands upon the fence. Neighbours gather at the school; heartbroken to their fates resolve. Sit and talk together, hope their problems can be solved. There’s a hand around the shoulders where emotion’s pouring out, as they listen to the rain with the breaking of the drought.
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