Black thunder clouds above the mountains
Proclaiming at last, rain is advancing;
To quench the parched dry soil’s thirst
And to feed the unborn blade of grass.
The dark skies give promise of sweet relief,
To tree, flower, bud and leaf.
May the gift the heavens possess
Stay for days or hours not less.
The sudden silver daggered lightening
Together with the grumbling rumbling thunder,
Rolling angrily across the heavens;
Giving gentle hope for growth, for all to flourish.