Raising Rain

Sweating all day under the boiling sky

we wait ‘til our thirst you slake.

Pouring rain we long for you

to ooze like dew just a drop or two

then slide on in with some drizzling.

Our throats are sore as we beg for more,

you peter out and we start to shout

“Can’t raise no crops, gotta raise some rain.

Gotta raise some cain to raise a little rain.”

You skirt on by, now we’re sure to fry.

We start to cry but the tears are dry.

Pouring rain our lives depend on you

so come back quick and heal the sick

pour for days ‘til we sob and sob

wet tears of joy as everything you sate.

Pouring rain dictates our fate.

© David Girard 19/03/16