In the quiet hush of twilight's embrace,
When day gives way to night's soft grace,
The heavens weep, a gentle refrain,
A symphony of nature's tears, the blessed rain.
Each drop a crystal gem, a gift from the skies,
Descends from cloud to earth, where it lies,
Upon the leaves, the petals, and the plain,
Quenching earth's thirst with its life-giving reign.
The pitter-patter on the windowpane,
A soothing lullaby, a calming bane,
It whispers secrets, it heals the pain,
A timeless dance, this tender rain.
In urban streets, it paints a masterpiece,
Reflecting neon lights, a shimmering release,
It cleanses the city's weary soul,
Renewing hope, making broken things whole.
In fields and meadows, it kisses the earth,
Awakening seeds, instilling rebirth,
The fragrance of wet soil fills the air,
A promise of growth, beyond compare.
In rivers and streams, it finds its way,
Joining the current, in a grand ballet,
A journey to the oceans, vast and wide,
Where drops become one with the tide.
Oh, rain, you are both gentle and wild,
A muse for poets, an artist's child,
Your touch, a blessing, a sacred rite,
A reminder of nature's eternal fight.
So, let the raindrops fall with grace,
Upon this world, in their own unique space,
For in their fleeting beauty, we attain,
A glimpse of life's cyclical refrain.
