I wish it rained. This has been far too long a dry spell.
For quite some time, it’s raining fire. Everything appears so lifeless, so barren out here. It’s, as if, the world around me is crying out for the heavens to open up; for a sudden downpour which takes you by surprise but gives a pleasure which otherwise cannot be described or measured.
This dry spell sometimes is so reminiscent of the lives we live.
Parched earth. Parched life. Parched soul.
I wish it rained.
There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;
And frogs in the pools singing at night,
And wild plum-trees in tremulous white;
Someday soon, there will come soft rains……