We’re on a coach that cruises mile on mile
Through rambling country-side and tree-specked hills, Where grazing cattle watch in stupor all the while, As outside the windows noon-day heats and stills.
In air-conditioned comfort we speed on,
Viewing farms whose yield in crops is scanty, Viewing streams that in flush torrents run,
To water crops and nurse them back to plenty.
We see the blackened bark on numerous trees, The fire-scorched earth that’s growing green once more. Occasional bare soil the tourist sees
Reminds one that the drought has come before.
We reach the dam and lake where waters shimmer, And birds and fish are gathered in great swarms. The lake is full and on it the sun’s glimmer
Shines golden, and the brimming water warms.
The sluice gates gush white foam into the river Which flows down to the valley and the farms In waves and swirls. Its surface seems to shiver, But further down it pools in deeps and calms.
Before us as miles run we view the story
Of drought and fire and finally blessed rain,
And realize the burden farmers carry