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.
