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A Woman Called Rain

By: Gwen Dixon For Rain, the Story She drips ever so slowly, working her way down Eying the world ever-so carefully from her tiny, gray cloud. She wraps the world with cleanliness, washing away the sun. Yet she can tear down like bullets, sent from a liquid gun. She builds up like mountains, but remains silent That is until she pours down, and then becomes violent. She tears up oceans and rivers and streams Haunting there after, like a child’s bad dreams. But who is this woman? A woman called rain? Does anyone really know from whom she came? Where does she stay when she doesn’t pour down? Does anyone know what’s beyond her gray cloud? I know who she is and just where she came. Yes, child, would you like to hear the story of the rain? Would you like to know about her creation? Do you want to know what formed her very foundation? They say her mother was the moon itself. But when she was born, she was smaller than an elf. However, soon she grew so strong and big, That she could snap a bone like it was a twig. Her mother than built a house on a cloud For Rain to live in when she didn’t pour down. It was big and gray, made of stone. But Rain was sad living all alone. So the moon created a horse made of the sun. But Rain was still lonely with just one. So her mother made her one more. Just to sooth her daughter’s uproar. She named the two Glisten and Sky, for they were so bright. But even though they were from the sun, they weren’t yellow; they were white. She would ride them at night across the black sky. Screaming with joy as they projected their light. ~~~~~So, whenever you see light across the sky~~~~~ ~~~~Think of Rain, for she’s riding up high.~~~~

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