It Rains
It rains.
And the earth opens its heart of clay,
like a deer drinking from flowing streams.
Each drop is a fertile tear
falling upon the greenness of the land.
It rains.
The mountain awakens
under the infusion of the downpour.
The stones sing
at the thunderous roar of the sky,
like an African rumba
that stirs them from their slumber.
It rains.
And the air, perfumed with an earthy scent,
brings the aroma of the countryside and the breath of life:
the roots twist their arms,
weaving an outstretched net;
the flowers dance together
to the rhythm of the wind.
It rains.
All is joy:
it is God drenching all with infinite grace,
the blessing of water that gives life,
with sonorous pitchers pouring from the sky.