It's the Kalahari

The sun rose that morning like a freshly baked pie Warm and golden Its purpose prepared for the day ahead To torch the bald and hat less heads Its was time to take its place in dust clogged sky Its barely 6 am when the sounds of the first cow bells ring as the beasts of burden make their way to find the last remnants of the dry brown hay the grasses thirst for that first rain and the cattle search and search in vain oh where are you black clouds and thunder its been a long long and warm dry winter as the day progresses the hope of rain dismisses oh if only that storm front from the north would makes its way and come forth you can even smell the air its sweet aroma as the sound of thunder gets ever nearer the anticipation of all of nature fills the air every creature and when that ferocious downpour is at its finish you think to yourself why so quick and why did you punish but at least it has given you strength to face another day, to go the length to put up with the heat and to say I’m sorry for ever wanting to leave this beautiful Kalahari