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.