Tuesday, August 19, 2008


Dust devils ride across the prairie wide
Hot dry winds are burning
Red anxious eyes search the prairie skies
For rain they are yearning

There will come a day when dust clouds roll away
And rain will fall again upon the scene
An offering from above for the prairie that we love
And life will be renewed in lovely shades of green

Beef cattle thin drift with the August wind
In search of grass a-lowing
Sharp hooves have trod thin prairie sod
And set dust clouds blowing

Sun-parched fields promise scanty yields
The mortgage alone is growing
Human spirits bend before the hungry wind
That gleans the fruits of man's sowing

Farm ponds dry neath a cloudless sky
Wheat prospects are decreasing
The windsong sings of better things
But the drought remains unceasing

Fred Atchison Sr. (Fall 1977)

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