Not everyone reading this will feel the same way about the autumn's rain, I realize. But where I live, it was a hot dry summer and the recent rain was a gift.
Interrupting the interminable drought,
drops are finally falling
on parched pastures
and withered gardens.
We have been waiting,
the drooping woodlands
and tattered roadside sumacs,
the bedraggled spicebushes
and I.
The days of lugging heavy hoses,
and pouring dirtied goat and chicken water
on newly planted sassafras trees
compulsively checking the weather report,
and inwardly groaning,
are over.
The rain asks nothing
but that we receive its blessing,
refreshing
and rejuvenating
our weary souls.
The rain has come
and all is green with gladness,
once again.
