Pixabay

Dust-dry ground heated

And soon to be baked by the sun

Bleached grass and receding ponds

E’er since the Spring begun.

Where are those kisses of moisture sweet,

Those drops of cooling life?

Wispy cloud pass over head

But their rich treasures they withhold.

Then it happens a few sharp drops,

Bullet-like pelt the ground.

Dust explodes from impact firm

But then the barrage does cease

The teasing done, the clouds move on

Leaving the sun to bake in peace

Padre

dVerse – Rain