Whither Goes The Weather

Nature's children are many To recall one may not be a task uphill to any With reverence I call her weather, The darling daughter of nature Seems nowadays becoming wayward Not that I shall not know why, if I am so privileged Though admired as the compassionate ever, The mother seemingly is cushioning her daughter In not properly admonishing her not to be unfair When she is called for to act and care No doubt she is blessed with many a talent Like rain and drought etc. to regulate Yet here comes her action later Than it should have been sooner When parched lips long for decent water She comes with a cup empty and drier Is it her laziness coupled with carelessness? That her mother knows better than anyone else And benign time goes home capricious Listless to what happens around to thirsting souls As if unto itself mysterious And unto souls a sovereign delirious Oh mother bring your daughter into order Though that may look like an elegant affair Still if need be punch her hard Until she sheds pearls of tears that could Turn out gold and diamonds for our farmers, the savior And may wipe out tears for ever