Rain man

Rain man

On this glorious morning of June,

A gentle breeze wafts my cheeks,

in the skies above, the clouds are silver and grey,

move with urgency, almost to say,

we have miles to go and promises to keep,

to this parched land, man and bird and beast,

that look at us, imploringly, as if to say;

Oh clouds, when do you rain on us?

I lift my sickle and hoe,

And load my cart with plants,

For I must follow the clouds, that tell me,

You have not accomplished your mission,

You have not planted;

Then why do you expect me to rain?

As I head to my fields,

The melodious Koel calls out; Hurry,

We want rain; why do you delay?

And I have to accomplish; what nature expects of me,

what I have not done; in the years of my life;

I hurry with my sickle and hoe, and head for the fields yonder,

The clouds above, grudgingly, approve and smile.