In whispered rhythms, raindrops fall, a soothing, subtle, softening call,

Each one a note in nature's hall, upon the roof, the leaf, the wall.

On leaf and limb, on roof and door, in melodies that long endure,

Rain sings softly to the soul, in subtle tones, this nature’s cure,

And rain's soft drumming on the ground is a tranquil, timeless sound.

 

It taps a tempo, true and tried, on windowpanes in quiet stride,

A gentle beat, where thoughts can hide, in nature’s nurturing quenching tide.

Through fields and forests, streams and stones, its song resounds in muted tones,

A lullaby that softly moans, in rhythms felt through skin and bones.

This rainfall's hymn, in harmony, soothes the heart, sets spirits free.

 

Upon the meadows, meandering, the rain’s soft serenade does sing,

A symphony of drops that cling, to each green blade, a glistening ring.

It paints the earth in hues of damp, beneath the sky’s atmospheric lamp,

A tranquil tone, a nature’s stamp, in every meadow, field, and camp.

In rain's embrace, the world transforms, in countless drops, its beauty puddles.

 

In every droplet, dreams alight, beneath the gray, diffusive light,

The world, awash in shades of night, finds solace in this liquid flight.

The rain’s caress, a tender touch, in times when life demands too much,

Its presence, a soothing clutch, in every drop, a world to touch.

In the rain’s persistent pour, we find peace and something more.

 

Through whispering winds, the raindrops leave a secret that few perceive,

In every droplet, we believe, a melody that the skies conceive.

The rhythm, a marching paradiddle, that teaches us to sigh a little,

In every rain hymn, we find acquittal, and grace in rain’s soothing fiddle.

Its pattern, like a pulsing beat, in nature’s heart, sustained repeat.

 

In sparkling streams, the rain descending, a journey vast, that’s never-ending,

Through time and space, gently wending, with every turn, a soul starts mending.

It speaks of cycles, life's grand way, of night’s slow yield to break of day,

In every drop, a dance, a sway, a prayer only rain can pray.

It whispers wisdom, old as time, in each small drop, a world, a rhyme.

 

Listen to the rainfall’s song, a ballad, a melody, a cry to belong,

In its rhythm, nature sings along, a chorus vast and deep and strong.

It sings of life in endless spin, of starts and stops, of lose and win,

In every drop, a new begin, a chance to look for what’s within.

The rain, with all its rhythmic grace, in every drop, the world’s embrace.

 

In the rhythms of the rainfall’s tune, neath the hidden sun, and the missing moon,

It dances to a timeless croon, in harmony with nature’s boon.

It tells a tale of earth and sky, of how the hours pass us by,

In every drop, an answer why, beneath the grand all seeing eye.

In rain’s soft rhythm, hearts take flight, in their cadence, find respite.

 

In every patter, pause, and play, the rain has much it wants to say,

In its simple, subtle way, it guides us through each rainy day.

Let the rain’s singing persist, for in its rhythms, we exist.

The matter of which rain consists, this life-giving altruist,

Mother Nature’s alchemist, keeps us sated, keeps us kissed,

And keeps life’s manna in our midst.

 

©2019  William A. Smith