I sigh as clouds come rolling in
like dairy cows all drifting slow
and lowing softly distantly
above parched fields not far below.

A cool west wind caresses leaves
of burr oaks planted as a break.
It spins the windmill's weathered blades
and twists the willows by the lake.

I'm standing just inside the barn
when heavy drops commence to fall.
They spatter first the chicken coop,
then thrash the trough near horse's stall.

Across the barnyard now awash,
my wife is soaked yet smiles at me.
Some sprouted plants in her small patch
she stands above protectively.

We farmers prayed for blessed rain.
A loving God has heard our words.
Those wilting stalks of shriveled corn
will soon be saved by Heaven's herds.