Do you remember the rain that fell?
A cupful,
For the wren
And the caterpillar,
For the thirsty flower,
It rained then,
An angel heard,
The bullfrog sang his gruff
Song,
The trees looked up to the sky,
Their green sleeves unpinned.
Beyond the fence where the bull
Stood and the donkey brayed,
The sagebrush stood up tall,
As tall as he could,
While the clouds sang
A gentle word,
Whistling in the wind,
The wind that rang,
That came from an ancient, brittle
Wood –
Or didn’t you know?
From the lost pyramids of stone
Where did they go?
Those that still call under the white-sailing moon
Long
Buried with their ancient ghosts
Soon
Only the lone
Butterfly
Dances now in the mist-petalled rain that falls,
Far from the seacoasts (the fog a strange newcomer),
Beneath the bright-colored rainbow
That arcs across
The longest day of summer.
The rain was just a little,
Just enough.
© Copyright Sharon St Joan 2024