rain
A Rainy Day In April
When the clouds shake their hyssops, and the rain
Like holy water falls upon the plain,
‘Tis sweet to gaze upon the springing grain
And see your harvest born.
And sweet the little breeze of melody
The blackbord puffs upon teh budding tree,
While the wild poppy lights upon the lea
And blazes ‘mid the corn.
The skylark soars the freshening shower to hail,
And the meek daisy holds aloft her pail.
And Spring all radiant by the wayside pale
Sets up her rock and reel.
See how she weaves her mantle fold on fold,
Hemming the woods and carpeting the wold.
Her warp is of the green, her woof the gold,
The spinning world her wheel.
– Francis Ledwidge
http://www.aromaticcoffees.co.uk
Rain Rain Rain
Rain, Rain, Rain, come again and again,
In the winter, in the summer and in spring,
Come with joy, fall with happiness and go with sorrow,
Rain, Rain, Rain come again and again.
Rain, Rain, Rain come to relive earth’s pain,
Rain, Rain, Rain come to make nature happy,
Rain, Rain, Rain come to make livings happy,
Rain, Rain, Rain come again and again.
Rain, Rain, Rain don’t go away,
Rain, Rain, Rain i hope you will stay,
Rain, Rain, Rain come again and again.
Vikram Pratap Singh
http://www.aromaticcoffees.co.uk
The Sun
anything
in your life
more wonderful …
than the way the sun,
every evening,
relaxed and easy,
floats toward the horizon
and into the clouds or the hills,
or the rumpled sea,
and is gone–
and how it slides again
out of the blackness,
every morning,
on the other side of the world,
like a red flower
streaming upward on its heavenly oils,
say, on a morning in early summer,
at its perfect imperial distance–
and have you ever felt for anything
such wild love–
do you think there is anywhere, in any language,
a word billowing enough
for the pleasure
that fills you,
as the sun
reaches out,
as it warms you
as you stand there,
empty-handed–
or have you too
turned from this world–
or have you too
gone crazy
for power,
for things?
– Mary Oliver
Cozy Rain
The best kind of rain, of course, is a cozy rain. This is the kind the anonymous medieval poet makes me remember, the rain that falls on a day when you’d just as soon stay in bed a little longer, write letters or read a good book by the fire, take early tea with hot scones and jam and look out the streaked window with complacency.
– Susan Allen Toth, England For All Seasons
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