It’s like a meandering path – A constant wax and wane. One day this blazing sun will laugh, The next will shower pain. Where soil is seeded For want to grow Nurture is needed Yet droughts are woe. You sing it song and music too And books a-plenty – Your job to do. Yet life won’t grow Without a pair Who, stooping low Lay joys to bare And share their glee, Their smiles so coy As they see This life – enjoy! A sapling lies amongst the grass And for their part, they do not pass A thought or worry, no shred of doubt For all the things that come about. A drought-called sun that beat-eth down The storm-clad clouds, their foreign frown, Or winds that shear and shred and tear And bring some misery, lay it bare. No length of labour, or strength of will Can ward this evil, deadly ill That destiny can lay-eth bare – To survive such storms, now that’s just rare! So ponder this and ponder loud But don’t you dwell on every cloud For most don’t bring a threat of rain Embrace the toil, don’t fear some pain. And for your part, remember this That not all farming delivers bliss, Or bounty, crop, just withered leaf – Such is life, quite the thief. When you recall the sound of storm Move to that which yet is warm – The laughter, love and time well-shared And that for which you once yet cared.