The Rain Poem by Bill Hammersley

The silent rain falls gently by my window feeding, earth spreading
Moist across the meadow’s face.

Both tree and flower drink the silver liquid with avaricious thirst
The life that lifts their limbs toward heaven’s grace.

This rock called Earth, was meant for man, yet covered by the soil
Whose fare and moisture feeds the living soul.

This energy of the breathing being so varied among the creatures
That live and rise from the shower of the archer

Whose arrows penetrate the clouds that pour down shower
And feed the life so thirsty for its power.

I love to hear the sound of falling rain. Just outside my window pane.
I know that here and there, this damp and soaking.bit of shower

Will tend the life I prize; man, beast and flower.
Through all the toil they may encounter