The rain has perspired,
This drop is perfect and dry,
My effort is not wasted
By the disdain of the season.
These drops of course lighten the load,
My backpack shall presume
The guilt of a never-never man.
The running men offer their invisible
Selves, pounding in front,
With bars behind, like the mountains
As strong tents,
Fulfilling the dread of a caring thoughtful
The rain has delivered a baby of joy
To this land of light, this land so proud
That an individual relies on them
For his sustenance.
His leadership is rotund,
He rules this land.
Topic(s) of this poem: rain drops