The Rains Have Not Come Again Poem by Peter Levy

“The rains have not come again” he moaned
His eyes frozen to the skies
He wiped his brow with some oily rag
And steeled his face disguise.
“’83 was tough, nearly lost the lot
And still we managed to survive
But this time I can’t see the point
To muster one more drive”.
I watched him slump as if he knelt in prayer
His fingers sifting through dry sand
“You city folk have got it easy ….
Drought’s no fun when farming land”.
About six foot four of solid man
He towered over me
My mouth was dry and wordless
I just stood there patiently.
“The bank will probably take that bit”
Raising a bony fingered hand
“And I guess we’ll simply battle on
And do the best we can”.
I knew it wasn’t done that much
But I hugged him just the same
He looked at me and gave a smile
“I’m mighty glad you came”.