Harvest Time

Crops ripened to their perfection,
Machinery now rolls in,
Maintenance checks, fuel replenished,
Time for harvesting to begin.

Gone may be the days of horse & cart,
Cue machinery expensive & loud,
Alowing greater speed & fewer people,
‘N’ other advancements to be proud.

‘Cept for times when they don’t work,
Though one hopes are far between & few,
Yet they can bring all to a stop,
Hopes for the crop to last take cue.

For harvest timing’s everything,
Alas it be green or too far gone,
May as well plough it under ‘n’ try again,
‘Cause harvesting at either would just be forlorn.

Thus when ’tis the right time,
‘All hands on deck’ shall be the call,
For a successful, uneventful harvest,
To be the pride of each & all!

So in roll the harvesters,
Balers, pickers, tractors & the like,
Alleviating crops of their bounty,
Whilst creating a wonderous sight.

Be it a farmer harvesting a block by day,
Or multiple lights widespread at night,
A vital job for human survival,
Which for some ’tis a delight.

Then once the harvest ’tis completed,
It shall be time to start again,
Some perhaps burning, plowing, re-sowing,
Then irrigating, (or praying for needed rain),
Up till the next harvest takes its mighty reign.


Super Storm

‘Twas a warm January afternoon,
Overhead ’twas a mostly blue sky,
With wind blowing to the stormy south,
Yet a mysteriously mighty storm ’twas nigh.

First came a few heavy rain drops,
Certainly nothing to phase,
An odd bit of lightning from thunder far,
Still nothing to cause a craze.

Suddenly rain started bucketing down,
Drenching the dry spotted ground,
Soon ’twas followed by light hail,
& wind blowing everything around.

Next moment it started swirling,
Creating a touch of panic,
Branches, wind, debris and ice,
Thickly spinning round in manic.

‘Twas uprooting trees ‘n’ breaking branches,
Damaging fences and buildings alike,
Leaving almost nothing upon it place,
Be it a plant, chair or a childs bike.

Eventually it quietened to a calm,
Although still electronic and overcast,
Damage ’twas assesed in it’s multitude,
Cleaning up ’tis now to be tasked.




Leaves falling from dying trees,
That normally survive the hot dry,
Animals bogged in fast drying dams,
Dying right where they now lie,
Young stock orphaned and weak,
Hand raised otherwise they’d die.

Once lush grass plains, reduced to dirt,
Everything in sight covered in thick dust,
Farmers struggling to continue on,
Minds drifting to better times with lust,
Reality brings another scarce withered crop,
They soldier on, because they know they must.

Available water sources drying before their eyes,
Nature dealing another ghastly knock,
De-stocking, selling up, re-writing survival plans,
Become a dark reality not to mock,
As affordable grain and other fodder supplies,
Get harder to find for their stock.

Others rally to lend a hand,
Helping to get them through,
Every little assistance relieves some pain,
Be it Financial, food, fodder or water too,
However there is only so much,
Those off the land can do.

Exhaustion claims the bodies of plenty,
Depression ravages minds across the land,
Some manage to escape the crushing hold,
Retreating to blissful places with sea and sand,
Whilst those left keep soldiering on,
Surviving though everything’s so bland.

Dark clouds signify some hope,
Perhaps a touch of much needed rain,
Mere thoughts of water and fresh life,
Ease minds filled so long with pain,
Eventually dams will refill and crops will grow,
Signalling parched land will be revived again.

Here come the trucks!

Here come the trucks,
With fully laden loads of hay,
From our massive countries west,
To assist drought stricken farmers,
Who though struggling to go on,
Are still doing their utmost best.

Driving right across our country,
In one massive long convoy,
They’re simply just amazing to see,
All the different truckies, farmers, families,
Coming together to help those in need,
To the best of their ability.

As they near their destination,
Excitement starts filling the air,
Locals are out to help and cheer,
All relieved they’ve made it here okay,
Hopefully without too many hurdles,
On their lengthy trip right over here.

Next morning everything’s a buzz,
With machinery working swift and hard,
Unloading, stacking and reloading hay,
From the convoy onto smaller trucks,
For farmers and graziers so grateful,
To all that have helped send it their way.

Within days the hay’s all gone,
To the sheds of those whom received,
Hay from the amazing convoy great,
To which their starving stock they’ll feed,
And all those involved should be so proud,
For helping reduce the previous fate.

O’ Mother Nature

O’ Mother Nature dear,
You haven’t seen what you’ve done I fear,
The land once green is now all sun burned,
Rain down here is now constantly yearned,
Yet there are only fluffy clouds a teasing,
A week of rain would be rather pleasing.

Struggling hard are those on this dry land,
All doing their best to lend a helping hand,
Everything alive trying to make it through,
From crops to stock and all wildlife too!
Even the mighty gum tree standing tall,
Has leaves dry and crunchy that now fall.

Life preserving water is evaporating fast,
Trusted dams and waterholes may not last,
Becoming nothing but drying mud then dust,
N bones of those whom for a drink did lust,
Perhaps dried grass and a dead water plant,
Some reviving rainfall could you please grant.

O’ Mother Nature if you could please,
Just send us all a light, whispy, little breeze,
Let there be some rain in that big grey cloud,
Not necessarily thunder as it is so very loud,
Please save what is left before it is too late,
For it will not last long at this current rate.