When it rains,

I have a feeling that I'm today is not going to be productive. It can't be, what with the heavens crying!- they need my sympathy. I need to hear their every little moan. I need to make sure the thunder giants don't step so heavily on them (although, I am all about thunder and lightning, so, thunder giants, stomp as loudly as you want).

There's the lightning.





Do you hear that, earth?
The heavens try to speak to you.
Earth, have you nothing to say? But listen to all these complaints and questions and statements and joys!
Say something in return!
Oh, I can't speak for you.
I don't know how to!
But these heavy downpours water your parched ground.
Perhaps, earth, your thank yous are whispers
like wind which toss clouds to and fro.
Your thank yous might be plants eating from the sun.

My thanks you?
I think my admiration might suffice.
But if I stare for too long, you let me know.
Let me know when I've fallen asleep to the sound of your conversations.
I don't mean to be rude,
but I don't understand you.
Make a clap of thunder!
Splatter me with water!
I will awake, I promise you.
I'll thank you for waking me.

Do you hear that, heavens?
I can understand how it rains.
Maybe even why it rains.
But I'll never know how or why what's beyond your clouds.

Yes, I am small.
Thanks for reminding me,
but thanks for including me.