Gentle Rain Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Waiting through the years for a genuine love to keep
me warm on cold nights in the tent when camping.

Listening to the coyotes howl, seeing the moon, look-
ing yellow way up in the sky.

Enjoying fresh pine scents after a gentle rain sprinkled
down upon us.

No need to seek shelter because it feels so good, refresh-
ing us before making dinner.

Still going camping, fishing and boating, even after 42
years of marriage.