Rain pours down upon us.
Supposedly a good thing?
Metaphorical cleansing,
Do we really get clean?
Supposed to feel better,
So many songs say.
Stand in a downpour,
Look to heaven and pray.
What’s really in those raindrops?
Have you got a sense?
Put your nose to your skin.
Detect an essence?
Are these the tear drops,
From heaven up above?
No, nothing sad at all.
Just tears expressing love.
Or the water they’re made of,
Is it peaceful and placid?
Or lingering with toxins,
Smoke stack’s poison acid?
Or full of sun rays,
From summer showers?
The prism of a rainbow.
A bouquet of fresh flowers?
Or do they contain,
Soap to wash pain?
Dry them off of your skin.
True what those songs mean?
The rain hitting our windshields,
Blows wind and wet leaves.
Splash through a deep puddle.
Cleans your car’s underneath.
In Spring, gentle rain,
To cover the rows.
A few weeks will pass.
Farmer’s efforts produce growth.
In winter, we’re thankful.
No freezing drops flow.
So glad we’re not covered,
Thick ice and heavy snow.
The rain from the sky,
There’s no argument.
Need water to survive.
It’s truly heaven sent.
Onto the ground then filtered,
Through bedrock and then.
Hiding back in the clouds,
Until it’s time to rain again.