Drip Drop Poem by Rita Shay

People of all ages complain at the sight of
White cotton balls way up high beginning to darken.
People shiver and scowl when
The silky silence of resting air begins to blow cold.
And slaps faces left and right.
People do not like it when the rain beats down
And the world goes gray.

If I had my way I'd move to Seattle
And never come back.

I'd sit in my own drippy paradise
Loving each dropp as it came to me.

If people quieted their complaining
They would hear the music of
The drip drop.

Sometimes His power slams down on earth's soft grounds
And then along with the chant of angry slaps of water
Come the explosions of the sun, trying to break through
The skies that have darkened to night, even in mid day.
Last, the rumbling of the drum beats of thunder
Complete the symphony of rain.

Other times the rain comes calm
In a not trying to bother anyone kind of way.
The wind is kind as it brushes against tucked in faces.
The water trickles and slips smoothly away
From its mother.
Flowers love the taste
And small children do too.

Away with rain coates and umbrellas
That stop tired souls from being awakened by the cold.

Puddles are full of mud
And if you bother to look good at one,
You'd see a rainbow waiting for you
To jump in.

And how it smells
Rain smells refreshing
It washes old things away
Blends in with tears
And gives life to flowers and other things.

I would keep going but I hear some pounding now
And I don't want to miss a single sound.