Rain
Many years skies were generous with rain.
Cactus perfume infused with rain's soft scent.
Grey skies threatening, gleams in misty veins,
becoming lightning to prove their intent.
Streaks of fire racing across summer skies,
more magical than ever dreamed by man.
Music of dancing raindrops soon belie
storm's frenzied anger, its thunderous hand.
We evince rain as a gentle creature,
gracing rooftops, trees, dry wildflower beds.
Lulled to sleep, we forget its main feature:
without it all suffer, life becomes dead.
We thirst for rain in our over-parched lust,
lest greens turn to brown and living to dust.
Copyright © Ann Peck | Year Posted 2021
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