Wishes for the rain

I wish now and then,
For the rain.
That I could touch, the drenching drops.
That I could see, the glassy streets.
That I could smell, the fresh sweetness of growing things.
That I could taste, the cleansing clearness.
That I could dance, with the twirling breeze.
That I could hear, the thunder roll (as the angels bowl).
That I could watch, hair-raising lightning gleam.
That I could listen, to the dripping of overflowing pipes.  

I wish once in a coon’s age, that I could run, in the rain.
That once in a blue moon, it would wash away
All the pain.
That every now and again it would lead
Gardens to rebirth
That from time to time it would quench
This dying earth.
That just as the spirit moves it would rush
Down mountainsides.
That once more it would stream
In deserts wide. 

That there would be
No more
That there would be
Falling down!  

That I could have
Joy and freedom
As my crown!
That I could know
I am blessed
And my cup is overflowing. 

I wish once more
That it would rain.



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