When the sky closes up, it stops raining.
Grass grows where it’s planted and dies
silently with hardly any rain for the past
three months. The care given to this grass
is better than a Persian carpet.
Who needs a carpet when I have this grass,
I love this grass.
Oh, let there be rain!
I miss the rain.
The grass misses it, too.
It’s raining. Today.
I could hear the grass laugh.
Every rain drop glistens like
a jewel, more precious than the
diamond worn by Elizabeth Taylor.
I soon have forgotten how dry it
was when I look at every detail
of the raindrop up close.
It’s a relief to hear the rain and
we are back to our name
we are known for.