Morning rain falls
Resting in puddles
All along the path
As rainbows glisten in drops
Radiated by a rising sun.
No ones whistles
For the sound would break
The quiet of raindrops falling
Moist, life giving drops
Soaking into earth parched
From a now brighting sun.
By midday
raindrops have stopped
And are distance memory
In the evening
When the sun begins to fall.
Fulfilling all their duties
Raindrops wait
For another time
To fall, to drip
Most of all, to drop.
~ Patrice
© Patrice Clarkson – 2020
Patrice’s Art & Poetry Blog 