Rain Poem by Pete Crowther

Rain slithers down the greenhouse glass
and raindrops drip from the apple tree’s
green shiny leaves to slide and drop
a-pitter patter on the roof
of the little wooden summer house
no other sound to be heard save
the blackbird’s grave deliberate song
so liquid, too, like a rich liqueur
poured slowly from its golden beaker.
Green grass, green leaves and wetness,
wetness everywhere, so grey the sky,
so still the air but cool and fresh
as water splashes on the paving stones,
makes pools and runnels on the ground
and soaks the roots of thirsty plants
that grow in pots around the lawn.
Soon snails appear drawn by the damp
while birds arrive to search for food.
Indeed, all nature’s grateful for this rain
for water does all life on earth sustain.