Turn you head a little, and glance briefly at the rain,
Watch it creeping down that clear glass windowpane.
Making a rhythmic tapping sound, it's such a soft refrain,
Thrown there by a wind whose temper, we cannot contain.
Clouds of grey release their weighty contents from the sky,
Feeding plants that on the ground, I'm pretty sure would die
Without the refreshing water. Trees like the tall green leylandii
Would shrivel up. We must also consider the fragile butterfly.
Although we moan each time we are bombarded by a shower,
We need to think of all it saves, even one simple flower.
It holds within its droplets numerous minerals of such power,
Continually feeding this dry, parched earth, hour after hour.
Let us appreciate the wonders which nature doth bestow,
Keeping our land a pleasant place for everything to grow.
Such a lovely write Ernestine, and being english its our duty to moan about the weather, but you are right of course with out the rain we would have far more to moan about, and as I look out my window what a coincidence, its raining.
We are under such dry conditions right now, and there is a forest fire burning in Georgia (500 miles away...) , such a bad one that the smoke from it is here! How I wish that we had some of that wonderful soft, sweet rain...wonderful poem...
You always excel at nature pieces. Lovely poetic droplets. Love, Susie xx.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This one is particularly pertinent to us Aussies at the moment, for whom every dropp of rain is a gratefully received. Ironically, after the worst drought in a thousand years, areas of New South Wales were bombarded with rain last night, causing flash floods and a state of emergency. Your poem is charming. Wonderful use of rhythm and English to the core. love, Allie xxxx