Cursing the Rain

Today I stood at my window and cursed the pouring rain. Today a desperate farmer prayed for his fields of grain. My weekend plans are ruined; it almost makes me cry, While the farmer lifts his arms and blesses the clouded sky.

The alarm went off on Monday and I cursed my work routine. Next door a laid-off mechanic feels the empty pocket of his jeans. I can't wait for my vacation, some time to take for me. He doesn't know, tonight, how he'll feed his family.

I cursed my leaky roof and the grass I need to mow. A homeless man downtown checks for change in the telephone. I need a new car; mine is getting really old. He huddles in a doorway, seeking shelter from the cold. With blessings I'm surrounded: the rain, a job, a home, Though my eyes are often blinded by the things I think I own.

Author Unknown

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