As It Rains
The thick rain drops console my soul
as they drip and drop like an African drum never heard,
and flow softly,
then much harder
finally with rhythm as the flow to different springs.
Yes they flow with rhythm,
as if to translate a special item contrasted by deep thunders and lit by lightning
The smell of water baked mud leads me to appreciate nature itself.
Its time for snails to pop out and dazzle all day long.
For there is hope,
Hope for water,
Hope for springs where no frog croaks,
Hope for greener pastures.
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