Clear Raindrops
Clear blazes the molten sun’s burnished rays;
Life-juice they draw from the withering crops.
Each thirst-wracked plant its wan head weakly drops
As the searing heat slow-tortures their days;
Remorselessly long is the deathly dearth.
Rustling down softly from the cloud-wrapped sky
A welcome coolness sprays the dusty ground.
In every quiet sun-parched field around
Now slowly uprises a grateful sigh,
Drawn from the cracked lips of the thirsty earth.
Relief swims through the weary, rooted cores
Of the dripping plants as they lift their heads,
Panting towards the clouds; from near-impending deaths
Saved by the clear raindrops’ regenerating force.
