Raised from dust

Poor me, poor me No hope I see
Only the dust where stay I must

The pouring rain turns dust to clay
A house is built out of the silt

Cast off debris, the fallen leaves
Turn dust to loam and flowers grow

Why did I cry and moan and sigh?
When all is told, that dust is gold

Just needed time and work combined
With rainy love sent from above

[Helen Jane]

they sit happily into this delightful scene of gigantic wild flowers.

[Rick Schies]

Well in this process of writing you are gathering some great photos

[Harry J Benson]

so agree with Rick