Rain Poem by maas weerabangsa

RAIN

A little moisture picked up here and there,
It floats as water vapor in the air;
Over hills it crawls and rests on the plain,
It irrigates mother earth and we call it rain.

From the sky it descends this moisture in different forms,
Some call it drizzles some call it rain or even storms;
Its functions are the same it surely drenches,
AS blessed water your thirst it surely quenches.

The farmer is happy it helps his crops to grow,
He tills the soil and seeds he does sow;
But his woman is angry her washings she cannot dry,
To play his kids cannot go and now about to cry.

The layman is sore as his clothes are all wet,
He vexes his wrath at all whom he just met;
The cows in the meadow while chewing their cud,
Gaze at some stupid oxen that's rolling in the mud.

Rain is often linked with thunder and lightning,
Sometimes it kills and sometimes it's frightening;
Children wonder at this mystery of the lightning flashes,
They watch from their windows as the rain splashes.

It waters the village also floods the big city,
It has many charms likewise has no pity;
The rain has spoiled my day you would hear some say,
Yet there are some others for rain they would pray.

It drips it would drop and at times it would pour,
At times here at times there even to Spain it would go;
Rain makes rivers and rivers flow to the sea,
For rain is not different for you or for me.