The sun spits angry flares
when even stones turn to ashes
I stay inside and do not dare.

Mother earth soaks up every drop
dries up the river and tree's bark
will the next rain help growing crops

Of things I did not worry before
have evolved now, taken ugly shapes
and now I face problems turned sore

Its for water we run around these days
store for adversity, prepare for the worst
this summer will change us in so many ways.