Ode to the Falling Drops

13 Sep 2026

Gentle Drops

The sky turns grey, a misty shroud,
A whisper starts, then grows aloud.
Small drops descend, a soft embrace,
Washing the world with watery grace.

On windowpanes, a drumming beat,
Washing the dust from field and street.
The thirsty earth drinks deep and long,
Nature rejoices in its song.

A fragrant scent fills up the air,
A fresh beginning, beyond compare.
The plants grow green, the flowers bloom,
Chasing away all shades of gloom.