The drought

The land is a dustbball,
Dry as dry can be.
Oh when will the rain fall?
It is barren as far as I can see.

The crops are turning to dust,
Animals starve and are dieing.
Cut our losses we must,
Our inventory we are halving.

The farmers are battling blind,
Unsure what the future will hold.
Receiving help from kindred kind,
A tough journey to be told.

For many the struggle is rough,
With barely enough to survive.
On the land, you try to be tough,
And hold onto the hope all will revive.

The wind is blowing,
But where are the clouds.
Why aren't the raindrops flowing,
Instead tears fall in shrouds.