There’s a special sound to rain
when you haven’t heard it in
long, dry months of a drought.
It’s the sound of a blessing;
the same joy one experiences
receiving a most special gift.
And you recognize how much you miss
the sound of it in your streets
hitting the pavement,
pounding on rooftops.
It splashes the dirt from cars
and runs down gutters
as it happily soaks
and drenches the land;
even cleansing the very air
in its crisp, cool wetness.
The earth gratefully refreshed,
is humbled before such needful bounty;
I too feel as though my cup runneth over.
Carolyn Brunelle
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-rain-65/
