Raining in Summer

In skies of gray I dwell inside of clouds, keeping company with mugginess and sweltering heat. People who labor underneath me perspire profusely; some curse. Others pray for me to cut their labor short. Yes, they pray for rain. I hear their cries, for I’ve been mustering steam during days and days of dreadful drought. Pitter patter pitter patter Their plaintive pleas I answer teasingly. Starting slow. I dole out droplets drop by drop by tiny drop The droplets increase . . . plop plop plop. Wind joins in - wailing. Trees tremble as I splatter them with wonderful wetness for the prayerful. Swoosh! Ker-plunk! I’m drumming and drumming, pouring myself down on thirsting flowers with heads bowed to reverently receive me. Umbrellas appear all over the streets. Gleefully, I pound them, hammering away. I pounce on the heads of uncovered people. Soaking grass and soil, filling rain gutters, and sliding joyously off many hard surfaces, I saturate every place that I’m able to outside. I am rain, and unceasingly this summer day, I reign supreme.