Blessed Rain

The rain, the rain, the blessed rain,

Comes down upon the thirsty plain,

And brings new life to all below,

As nature's bounty starts to grow.

The drops fall gently, one by one,

Creating patterns as they run,

Along the paths and on the leaves,

And on the roofs and on the eaves.

The sound of rain is music sweet,

As it falls upon the street,

A symphony of nature's own,

A melody that's well-known.

The grasses, trees, and flowers too,

Drink deeply from the raindrops' dew,

And raise their heads up to the sky,

As if to say, "We're glad you're nigh."

The earth is moistened, and it smells,

Like petrichor, a sweet, sweet spell,

That tells of life and growth and change,

And all the wonder of this range.

The rain, the rain, the blessed rain,

Is such a gift, a precious gain,

A treasure that we must cherish,

For all the life that it does nourish.

So let us welcome every shower,

And bless the rain, this wondrous power,

For it brings us hope and peace,

And makes our joy and gladness increase.