A weathered old
Cocky stood surveying his land
The barbed wire
fence in his calloused right hand
And he looked up to
the sky as the dust stung his eyes
And he silently
prayed for help from the skies
Eight long
seasons since a crop had grown well
Still the wheat from
the chaff wasn’t easy to tell
The weight on
his shoulders was a burden he knew
But another dry
season he’d still have to work through
And his mates all
around him were leaving this life
But he’d been here
forever, just him and the wife
Their kids had
moved on, left the land for the city
Bright lights of
the nights, or were sunsets more pretty
Still he just
stared, turned his back to the wind
He would not
give in, he would never rescind
Three decades
of fight, he knew no other skill
The sheep and
the wheat, the land he would till
Gunshots and
rope, they took so many friends
Those who gave
up, who could not see the end
But this man
would fight, he would not be defeated
Although he was
weathered, his resolve was depleted
He let go of
the fence, and looked out past the trees
Hear the sounds
of the wind, felt the cut of the breeze
Those on the
land they all felt the same pain
But his faith
would not die, soon there would be rain
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