As usual, I'm going to shame myself by asking for responses from anyone who encounters this poem, whether they find it enjoyable or otherwise. Below there are several check-boxes and I ask you to check whatever one most befits your attitude after reading. If you have questions or comments, feel free to make them below, and if you'd go so far as to say that you LIKE this poem, I'd appreciate it if you'd share it on Facebook or Google+!
Who first claimed weather was the cause of ruin
And shuddered at these falling globs
Ignoring all irony in what they were doing
As they bemoaned their luck in heaving sobs?
Instead, such a preference for the boastful sun,
The eternal burner and giver of light,
Ignoring millions of droplets that act as one,
And are equally significant to the tree of life.
Despite having all the heavens as their source,
Those clear, cleansing waters are humble,
Quenching and flowing and washing with force,
They never are proud nor falter nor stumble.
It is only a fool who could dislike the rain,
Choosing exclusively to favor the sun,
As a wise man would realize both are the same,
For enjoying this life and for having some fun.
To all of those for whom my words are unheard,
I wish I could share what it is I have gained,
How much I have grown, developed, matured,
While learning and loving each time that it rained.