Tenterfield, one day closer to rain

Tenterfield, for water you now beg,

land I adore, so terribly dry.

Way back in spring, blossoms never came.

Those pretty trees reached up to the sky.

Little flowers, too parched to appear.

Leaves did droop and crack, as if in pain.

It was as if those trees sweetly prayed

that we be one day closer to rain.

Summer came, a season long and hot.

The skies were blue, the ground was brown.

Creeks did dry and withered grass did die.

Then with one spark, a new hell came down.

The air was filled with ash and choppers.

Brave RFS folk, the smoke did stain.

They fought for days, and then prayed to god

that we be one day closer to rain.

When autumn came, avenues were bare.

Graceful trees had long dropped their leaves.

Colours came but as if they were muted.

The weather was now like stealthy thieves

of our cold, colour and morning frosts

for which we now seemed to wait in vain.

Back then, even Autumn was saying,

“please dear world, one day closer to rain”.

Winter came and the dry ground did crack

and empty dams seemed to evaporate.

We all had dreams that kept us going

of rains that would one day saturate.

The cold crept in, dead grass turned to dust.

About drought there is nothing humane.

Heart sick farmers, tired and worried, hoped

that we be one day closer to rain.

So, we wait and talk of day zero;

the day that our water will be gone.

Perhaps a bore or truck will help us,

yet each day brings another dry dawn.

Our farmers struggle with starving stock

or realise that they must now abstain,

from planting without them knowing, that

we are all one day closer to rain.

So dry, but here there is always hope

that this land’s thirst will soon be quenched.

Lovely Tenterfield plods along,

her arid heart strings are all so clenched.

Now she has fallen on tougher times,

her lovely coat; the dust does stain.

Her face is cracked yet smiling, because

it’s just one day closer to rain.

#Australia #Drought #Onedayclosertorain #Tenterfield