Calling the Rain

I called for it, and it came. Yet, not when I thought it would - when I wanted it, yearned for it, called it simply because I missed it, it stayed away. But when I needed it - when I stopped trying, did nothing, and my mind cried out, unbeknownst to me, when it was the deeper parts that called; that's when the rain came. We saw the storms long before their thunderous arrival, watched the amassing dark, and lo, I knew. It was there to speak to me; and for the first time when I had the time, I didn't listen. I chose a game, I chose a discussion - a worthy example of each, to be certain, but of spurning the solacer? Of that I am not nearly so sure. It came, and I turned aside, away from the rage, the relief, the rain. Whether from within or without, the next time I call, I worry, I wonder: will it come?