by Langston Hughes
Let the rain kiss you.
Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops.
Let the rain sing you a lullaby.
The rain makes still pools on the sidewalk.
The rain makes running pools in the gutter.
The rain plays a little sleep-song on our roof at night—
And I love the rain.
January Rain Song (Through Gritted Teeth)
by Mary Lee Hahn
A kiss that lasts this long is just downright obscene.
The beating of the rain is making us go collectively insane.
We go to sleep -- it's raining, we wake up -- it's raining. Some lullaby.
The rain makes deep puddles under the swingset. Indoor recess again.
The rain keeps sump pumps running.
Yet, I must not forget that the rain is the reason for our towering trees—
And so I love the rain.
Jim Hill has the Poetry Friday roundup today at Hey, Jim Hill!