The Rain

I make haste to the earth And anoint its rebirth When my mother, the cloud, is above, And then mildly caress The irradiant dress Of the hills with immaculate love. I descend upon leas And respond to their pleas When they pine for my kiss in their thirst; Then I nourish with ease, As they flow to the seas, All the rivers whose growth I have nursed. I protect, as I fly, Bashful lovers who lie Undisturbed in their secretive nests, While the world is at bay And far out of their way On its tiresome, oblivious quests. When the spring air is dry, I breathe out with a sigh And the flowers all bloom at my will And, when autumn is near, I shed many a tear O’er the moors while the granaries fill. Inconsolable birds Voice their songs without words In their fond expectation of me, And then play in the sun Once their hearts I have won With the gift of how warm I can be. I roam, wave upon wave, When the mariners crave The sweet taste of moist myrrh on their lips; Then I plunge and dissolve, Rise anew and evolve Into fog which embraces their ships. From high crests I oft wend And with care do I tend To the needs of all green’ry on earth, Whom I raise from the ground In a medley unbound With tall giants of singular girth. Over mountains I creep, Upon castles I weep As they slowly concede to decay; Then I cover in moss All that crumbles to loss When men die and may not have their say. Once my tears are all gone, I give way to the sun And my brilliant sprays overshine All that flashes on high And bewitches the eye On a bow decked in splendor divine. Though in change I am donned, I’m the bridge and the bond Between heaven and earth in their strife; I am shy yet sublime, Unaffected by time, As refulgent in death as in life. Find my poems and published poetry volumes at www.eton-langford.com