It rains constantly here
Pouring out of the skies
As if a gracious Gardner is over concerned
About the greenness of our lands
These small fields
Multihued hankies
The hills bog strewn
With bleak beauty
We discuss our weather
As we do our health
Shocked at how poor both are
Comparing notes on how wet things
are
‘sure no summer at all’
And happily combining both in
‘this weather really gets into my
bones’
But if the sun shines, all is
transformed
The green freshness looks
majestic and vital
The sea turns from gray to
beckoning blue
And our mountains become as
nature intended
Wild with beauty
Every face is radiant with joy
In the rare sunshine
We cannot hide our delight
And want to hug ourselves
At this good fortune
A dry day with no clouds
Sure it is no wonder we dance and
sing our joy
To have no rain is a rare thing
