The wind was rushing, the rain was pouring.
He stared at the ceiling while his dog was snoring.
Would the plants be ok, are the structures storm proof?
The darkness closed in as water battered the roof.
He did not sleep well, there was not much he could do.
But to hope and to pray that his plants would pull through.
So he whispered a prayer and laid his head down to sleep
The alternative being to break down and weep.
When morning came round, he jumped out of bed.
Ran to the window, fearing his plants would be dead.
But to his great surprise, there was no damage done.
No plants were harmed, not even one.
His dodgy bamboo frame, still reaching for the sky.
The greenhouse slightly flooded, didn’t expect it to be dry.
The trench he dug, helped the water flow.
Away from garden to the neighbours creek below.
The corn still stands, the fruit trees are strong.
He danced through the rain, singing his happiest song.
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