Rain
Falls like pearls,
drops with pain,
brings life to all,
to all things sustain.
Renews the old,
washes the young,
nectar of life,
makes rivers run.
Fills the oceans,
lakes and ponds,
makes all things grow,
cities built upon.
Brings down mountains,
and all terrain,
all the world,
can not contain.
But makes faces glum,
spirits sink,
though rain we need,
it’s presence stinks.
Though the world around,
depends upon,
I’m happiest when,
the rain is gone.
Stephen E. Gibson