The Gift by a passing cloud

 

Such killer June heat,

Sun greedy for a new fiery feat,

The wind doth burn,

Almost melting the fern.

A little swab of cloud

pitied life caught in smoldering shroud,

Thundered and struck a lightning note,

With its little waters it fought

a small garden’s thirst and pain,

Aha, a brief spell of rain

on a sunlit noon,

An unexpected boon,

Godsent sprinkle of water on a face

withering without moisture’s brace.

The cloud is very small,

But showers its waters all

and wets a little garden and its sunburnt flowers,

Bathes them with blessing showers.

As a cloud tiny

it may not make it all rainy

for all the land

and salvage the burning sand,

But it knows its duty

to the sun-singed beauty

in the yard

of a small-time bard,

It’s beautiful to see

a little rain among noon’s full glee,

The little cloud knows

it can’t thwart the fiery blows

to kill the fire,

but it can sire

optimism and raise hope

with its brief watery mope,

It drops a little message

with its brief watery passage

that I’m here for you,

Good times will come with night’s dew,

And the soil

writhing with pain and on boil

dances with life

among the fiery onslaught and strife,

Comes it back to life,

Its joy one can smell

even in this burning hell.

A small journeyman cloud

makes the entire sky proud

with its brief downpour on a sunlit noon

when the heat is at its peak in June,

And a poet in his small wet garden,

Joyful over this tiny divine pardon,

Soaks in the beauty of raindrops

and forgets life’s flops.

Moved on the cloud small

after giving its waters all,

After a thundering greeting it left

with airy dives deft.