It's a cryin' rain...

We had a gentle storm

(not quite the norm),

It was only visiting, meaning no harm,

not intending to cause alarm.

She softly blew in-

without making a din.

Tip toeing in, tapping outside

whispering wind unable to hide

Blessings for the desert parch,

weather comes in a March,

lining up for a show

as Natures spigot sets the flow.

Today, as we can unclearly see

just kissing full droplets, delicately.

She's in no hurry-

too warm to flurry,

in this tropical geography,

of maternal meteorology.

Silently saturating,

drip irrigating, saving,

seasonal wrath,

for a different path.

Anger saved for another place

as we accept her gentle mist in trace.

Rolling down cheeks,

pointing out leaks,

dripping from the eaves,

quieting the leaves.

Sparkles glittering on the grass

prisms of tears reflecting en masse.

Composed 12/5/14.

Image of painting by Robert Henri [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons. "Misty Paris" 1890.