Through my window I see a morning of change,
A breeze of difference, a touch of rain I see.
The sky is moving, a heaviness rests above,
When it’s raining there’s a quietness that surrounds.
This day is different, not enough rain but to wash the dust,
Thankful for every drop we get, before our eyes life dies.
I speak of out west, California not so special anymore,
The rain is a stranger but we pray always for more.