A children’s poem – written waaaaay back in high school.
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Rain says on the roof:
these are joy-tears I weep,
hush now, my patter
will sing you to sleep.
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Some days it shouts: Ha!
You’re all wet, April fool,
my friend it was warm out
but now you’ll be cool.
.
And rain will play tricks
and fall in hard stones,
or crystals of whiteness
and silvery cones.
.
And these say: Come play,
let me nip at your ear
until a warm day
makes me all disappear.
.
(c) 1965, 2016 Betty Hayes Albright
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(A note to everyone living in the drought stricken areas of the country: I hold you in my thoughts. It has been dry even here in the northwest, but not as devastating as those states to the south and southwest. Wishing you all rain, and containment of the fires.)
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Seasonings 
We are even dry in Sturgeon Bay, Betty. We were wet earlier, but all of July and August have been dry. I remember the joy of even a small shower, though, from all our years in New Mexico. I just love these “aspects” of what rain is, and, through the miracle of Betty Hayes Albright, its meaning.
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My thanks again, Thomas. Guess I’m nostalgic for a good ol’ summer rain – the kind we used to get here. They’re scarce now in much of the country. (And it seems those places that do get rain end up with deluges.)
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