I can smell the rains
dark skys can tell too
to cease and ease the pain
and count on the coming gains

the swaying of the trees could be seen
cool tones of droplets settled on my skin
seated under my usual tree

I hear the chirping of birds next to their nest
I noticed the dancing of the calves and lambs
my mind on the coming treasure
to end these echos of doom

echos of doom

worst of a season
dry streams dusty field and clear skys
will be a thing of the past
should I judge a book by its cover?/

I countlessly count on the rewards of rain
the seasons will be as usual as my conscience tell me
sooner than later the echos of doom appear again
no rains,no gain but more pain
I shouldn't  have counted my chicks before being hatched

echos of doom are at it again