The Rain Lesson

June 6, 2010
By Emma Paustian BRONZE, Portland, Oregon
Emma Paustian BRONZE, Portland, Oregon
2 articles 0 photos 3 comments

The day when the rain finally hit,
Was a curious day, I must admit.
Not much out of the ordinary really occurred,
Yet a tiny, young being sang like a bird.
Her words sprang out and didn’t fail,
And suddenly the rain turned to hail.
People all around looked out with question,
Wondering what had brought around such a divine perfection.
Pit, Pit, Patter, Patter, Pit, Pit, Patter.
When Old man Jones said, “It simply doesn’t matter.”
The swirling sensation of mist and fog,
Filled the air as the song was sung by a dog.
He yowled and barked to a lovely tune,
Until the sun went down and it was carried on by the moon.
Pit, Pit, Patter, Patter, Pit, Pit, Patter.
Glowing stars shined euphorically,
And each played a note while shining adoringly.
Such lovely mourning grew from three mice,
Who sang a ballad about a yummy cheese slice.
The rain continued to pour down not quenching curiosity,
And a homeless man joined in who had received generosity.
Pit, Pit, Patter, Patter, Pit, Pit, Patter.
His cans shook one way, and he shimmied the other.
Which brought the rain down on a child and her mother.
“Mommy, Mommy, it’s raining so hard!”
They rushed into the hotel and punched in their keycard.
The swishing sound filled the hall and the streets,
And brought the rain to match the cluncking of cleats,
That branded the sidewalk and brought out dismay
From mean, old Mrs. Shirley MckMay.
Her voice pounded as loud as the rain,
About her lovely sidewalk and beautiful terrain.
A bee flew by racing for its hive,
But not before adding it’s tropical bee jive.
The day was setting for the second time with water,
Which brings us back to the young rain daughter.
She started the rain with her sweet, tiny voice,
And ended it that night with a decided choice.
Her town had always appreciated the sun and it’s heat,
But never the rain and its rhythmic beat.
Pit, Pit, Patter, Pat-
The rich rhythm of the rare rain in ruin
Was a reminder to all to listen and clue in.
Always remember to appreciate precipitation,
Because it has always taught a meaningful lesson to our nation.
Life is a song; we can add to or create,
As long as we contribute and avoid all hate.

The author's comments:
For everyone who is stuck with the rain: it is a song we can all learn.

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