RAIN SPATTERED and the wind howled over the past several days in Surrey. Although a cloud still broods on the horizon, the weather has settled and now the sun occasionally peeks through. I haven’t seen rainbows but I did find a colourful windsock and a poem after a raindrop clinging to the eaves suddenly plopped on my head. The drop got my attention and reminded me of a kid's poem I once wrote during a very dry spring in the Lower Mainland.
THE THIRSTY GARDEN
The garden sat silent and still ‘til
A raindrop plopped gently down
Onto the little boy’s nose
The sky watched the blob slowly roll
And slip to the tip where it swung
To and fro in a wet glow
The suspended bead splendidly hung
As it paused at the sloping edge
And clung to the tiny nose
The earth below saw the drop stop
Then arrive with a thud like a flood
Onto the dusty garden
The garden gasped at long last
Knowing more rain would follow
Its needy seeds were eager to grow
The dry ground sought for weeks
To speak to the little boy who
Paid no heed to his garden
Water me, please!
Beautiful poem, Penelope! I could feel the garden's anticipation, and the sensation of that droplet landing on my own nose. Your words will help to remind me to be happy for the land, rather than frustrated with this wet holiday weather:)
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