Why Do We Live Here

I think "why do we live here?"

as the wind blows from the South,

across the ocean water,

gathering rain in its mouth.

When it starts churning

and gathers speed,

we start looking around the house

to see if we have what we need.

Its like a lottery you don't buy a ticket for

but might lose anyway;

one day the skies are nice and calm,

the next you're blown away.

Then the storm passes through

and we pick up all the mess,

the limbs and sticks from everywhere;

it puts your patience to the test.

Before too long,

the blue skies return and we get a little rest,

we realise why we stay:

we think this place is the best.