Drought Is Just A State Of Mind

I am a plower, a sower, a reaper.
Attached to your hitch, a garden tool you have used many times.
I'm at peace in the garden.
I know my job, and continue to break ground in love, and on the days of drought, I cry when the springs withhold their mercy.
I continue watering the harvest from the ground up,
then I dust my knees, wipe the sweat and tears from my face, and take the next step, crushing red clay into soft malible dirt, planting once again new seed with broken and calloused hands.
In a world full of so many options, free will can be a blessing or a curse, I choose to stand...still...in this garden, and wait on the blessing.