Clouds and Rain

Sky-bound tabernacles, clouds, to whom stars cast, exuberantly,

Their light and strew the golden dust of Cosmos; you house

Miracles manifest, in vapour and warm air, you congregate at the

Mountain tops and, roaring thunderous, descend upon the land;

Pure-silver giants, whom no wind can scatter, an’ Sun never

Pierce with Her light, you fall like snow, shining elegantly,

Upon the olden oaks and sturdy beeches, gently garlanding

Their crowns with seas of silky fog, the divine out-pour.

O, never-melting snow, you ghosts of Heavens, mounted upon

Trees and mountain peaks, joyously conversing with angels an’

Cherub; heap dewy crystals, bejeweled rain, upon the gentle leaves

Of those sacred trees, make them shine, youthful an’ ever-bright!

And in your vapour, an’ cold, let the world rejoice, for the scorch

Of the Sun hath all but devoured the fruits of the harvest. No more!

for, invigorating rain slides down the faces of forest’s children; an’ lo,

The withered and scorched, nuptials of buds, blossom true, burgeon

Beautiful!