Rhythmic Stories March 8, 2022

When The Dust Clears

Bare earth exposed to the wind
a swirling of dust The particles ascend

Man’s inhumanity to man
Like a choking dust fan

When man stirs up a dust storm
There’s no way to hurry it along

When Man put his hand to the plow
No crop rotation he lacked knowhow

Deep seeded Prairie grass Could have held the roots in place

the man was too proud to admit it, and the dust bowl hit them in the face

Nothing to do but wait for the settling of the dust storm

Much of the land would never return to its original norm

Life is like that dust bowl somedays
You can’t hurry the bad to get to better days

Find a room and sit in a quiet place
Bow your head and cover your face

When the dust settles, and it always will
Patiently wait. God will restore your field

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