Why is . . .

Why is life so difficult for the hardship and the weary, to struggle and to be bound. Stuck on this here earth, watching from a far. Dirt flying in all directions, tumble weeds bustling across the road, if you stop and watch them for a sec, they turn around as if to say, catch me if you can.

The parched land, that once was wet, rain fell for many days, even weeks at hand. No sun would shine in these here parts, but one day the pow wow performed brought plenty, now the floods continue and the grey clouds are seen near and wide.

Drought is one thing, storms are another.