Spring Rains

By Rita Hodgson, Rowville, Victoria

Winter had been long, cold, dry,
And like ancient skin
The land was parched and wrinkled.

Grass had become sere,
Fallen leaves skeletal,
Dust was everywhere,
Raised by wintry winds.

Then the rains started.
First, mist drifted in,
Clouds and fog filled the valleys,
Gentle, almost absent-minded.

You could hardly call it rain,
Scotch mist perhaps,
Just enough to settle the dust.

The earth, like a woman,
Began to primp a little.
Her complexion got better
Wrinkles plumping out
Tresses newly coloured.

Trees and bushes drank in the spring
Daintily put out buds and new shoots,
Birds began to talk
Of nests and eggs
and rehydrated worms.

Still the rain fell
Heavier now, and warmer,
Setting the streams to chuckling,

Until at last,
The earth was moist, soft
Sated.

The rain stopped
Peace now, and an expectant pause.

Then the clouds parted to let the sun
Gild the raindrops
On the opening buds.

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