Wednesday, August 6, 2008
It rains and rains, drumming on the iron roof.
Though gray and gloomy be the day, it still
abounds with treasure. The droplets cling to
twig and leaf like diamonds all aquiver, just
stop and listen what they say, they speak to
us in voices gay of sunny skies and clouds of
gray, of mist and dreaming willow fronds, of
twinkling stars on faerie wands and thirsty soil
a-drinking. The roots of trees all parched from
drought and heat swell thirstily and sigh. How
can you wonder why a dark and dreary day I
bless, with rain, rain, rain, more rain.