The pitter-patter begins on a cue, To leave behind shiny drops of dew, Sparkling with their many colours and hues, The smell of fresh green grass comes alive, anew.
The quick drops splash down, Ridding the city of her hot frown, The dirt & grime are washed away from the town, And leaving behind a rainbow – the city’s crown.
The rain’s best companion is the strong gust, As she moves through, the temperature politely adjusts. Pedestrians scurry along, at first nonplussed, Then they move on to sipping some hot tea – an absolute must!
The rain, she is the warrior against the steady heat, Offering solace as she overcomes the summer, to defeat. She vanishes till the clouds meet, We realise her value, for bringing her back is quite a feat!
’tis a playing field for many kinds out in the arena, to discern the companionship of the puissant sun ’tis a hot, new summer day , blithe and sound maketh thou run, run, run… syrupy voice of nightingale, fills candied
I lay in bed Listening to the hammering rain Pit pat pit pat Beating on the window pane I gaze at these racing drops Hitting a different note each fall Spreading the fragrance in the air Of their rendezvous with
I awake to the gloom of a cloud covered sky, There’s a dampness that floats with the air. A stillness and peace has enveloped my world, And I don’t see a soul anywhere. You can already smell the rain on
Breeze rippling sheer embroidered patches as sunlight streaming shadows prance across plastered walls… As precipitation mist cool Floridian rays beaming tin roofs. Winter temps once again; no show. pre-Black Power, post-slavery; steel railroad tracks line wooded villages alluring Negro Parramore