Puddles and harvest

The rain falls down, A gentle call, Water seeks lanes and yards, Since the rills,and drains, And local ponds vanished. On the roads, Passing cars splash water, Dirty on paddlers' clothes, As they leap high To avoid the mess. They jump again and again Through the potholes, Dodging the distress. If rain lingers long Water flows, a streaming throng, Covering the roads. Let's bear this all, For in nature's plan, Without rain's grace Rice production would fail . Cherish each drop, For in every storm and puddle Lies promise of harvest.