Never parched.

It’s a moody beast and we complain upon seeing its approach,
but I miss the rain if it’s absent for more than a day or two. 

Week or two.

Some might say “glutton for punishment,” 
but we’re the world we inhabit
and my world is one of lush greens most of the time.

I like the wet.

If rainclouds were bright,
they’d be more welcomed – water is after all  joy and life.

We’re too much about appearances and weather needs to step it up,
though, like fashion, our preferences reflect our historic reality.

No matter how much we wish to make it so,
we’re not the centre of the universe.
My water always flows when I turn on the tap.

I dance in the rain and stomp in puddles when it falls 
like devotees the world over.

I grump with the best of them when the grey dreary drags on with no end in sight.

Waking to raindrops on the roof makes me smile and think about pulling on boots for a ramble.
Umbrellas, however, are for aliens. 

credit: Dean Moriarty


7 thoughts on “Never parched.

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