I’m happy when it rains,
It purifies the land and my soul,
It is the never ending chore of nature,
It purifies the land and my soul,
It is the never ending chore of nature,
.
In the yard, raindrops splash the ballet,
As they explode on puddled stage,
While on hillsides streams are forming,
Quickening to merge at the river with thunderous roar.
While on hillsides streams are forming,
Quickening to merge at the river with thunderous roar.
.
Rocks tumble, clash and tear at the valley floor,
As they are ushered to the sea,
To be displayed there at the ebb,
Like a mighty army.
To be displayed there at the ebb,
Like a mighty army.
Trow – 12/02/2013
It's a Poetical World 