Raining in Summer

there upon my bedroom pane is weaved a weary course of rain so indescript are they that chase and pause then run again from clouds they come to drip upon parched tongues and the thirsty fingers of brittle wanting roots ~ponds fill now... abrim with tears pensive and sad - lonely and glad should I wake in this gray mood at the tempting edge of yawn or linger in each languid refrain? as its melody plays the music of a lazy dawn ~ before I wake before it's gone...