Traveler's Requiem [Poetry]

Rain

Like beestings it needles the cold,

Marching triumphantly across fields of green,

Creating red strips of stains on the side of trains,

Jewel of the desert and sludge of the north,

It attacks all things once man made of lime and that which dug from the ground is,

As it rolls in a misty hexed haze across hills of brown,

Aiding the likes of nature in every step,

But a freezing plunder to mankind,

Shall but rain come.