Ah, poetic raindrops that have been the inspiration

of so many songs of love plunged in desperation

They’re the subject of hope and admiration

In parched lands long wracked by devastation.

Their music holds us captive in facination

and we wander lost in thought, in isolation.

Until we wonder if our love of rain is a hallucination

or a result of our intoxication.

Cheery and perky, the guys in the fire station

anticipate a long hiatus from a vibration

of the fire bell and a forlorn Dalmation

peers out on a city whose only decoration

is the jeweled drops of rain.  Abomination!

He howls in canine exasperation.

Me too!