And waters deep the dry parched pine. Rain whose each life giving drop contains A ray of hope of things that are brand new. Like elixirs from past long lost gods of rain. Now just a pitter patter rain of living dew. Then as the summer days grow warmer.
Storm clouds erupt against a sky of blue.
Sending soaking rains to water thirsty plants, And wash their dirty faces, their spirits renew Raining now with gusto, chariots race in view. Swirling clouds mixed by an Artist's brush, Filling up the landscape and raining now on cue. As splish-splash the rain comes with a rush. In the fall mother nature gives a season ball. Invites all the trees to dress up bold and gay.