Its a matter of fields and space
Whereupon heaven would shower its grace
The bright sun makes it very hot
There’s nowhere to be seen a shady spot
Except for fabricated structures
Those that we live in for shelter.
But as the evening welcomes night
Making the place ready for a rite
And the cool breezes as they set
The land now feel not really wet
But knows His work is a process
Of cold, heat and a rainy recess
The earth welcomes every shower
that meaningful grace full of power.