A farmer dressed in spotted white,
I wait for the rain to arrive.
I look up at the sky
With one hand shading my eyes from the remorseless sun.
But no sign of a cloud.
I still wait,
Seeing my labour wither
Day by day, day by day.
As night sets in I pray
For the next day to be a grey one.
As the grim grey color of the sky –
The grey which is dull and sad to all
Is the only cause of my happiness and my rare solace.
Days have passed.
I wonder in perplexity
Of how I still had any hope left in me.
With weary legs I walk
And look for the taut rope –
The final end of my dwindling hope
Dragging it through my shrivelled farm,
I finally arrive at the earmarked tree .
And look up to see the branch up high
With a heavy heart, I let out a sigh.
One last time I look up to see,
Thinking, maybe, nature would have mercy on me.
But it doesn’t, as I am not the only one.
A tear drops as I close my eyes.
As the unpredictability of rain,
Makes my life so predictably Unpredictable….