Every now and then, as if to reassure us,
the sun slides through an opening in the clouds.
It keeps us from falling into pits of gloom
as we slog through this endless spell of rain.
If you grab one of those precious sunny hours
and walk the path, now deep with wet grasses,
that runs between the meadow and the woods.
you find that the wild things are thriving.
Flowers bloom, buds burst, plump seeds
prepare to fly. Grasshoppers hop;
butterflies float from blossom to blossom.
The leaves on the trees are washed and shining.
And across the creek tilled fields
sprout emerald rows of corn and beans.
You can’t stay long, of course. Already clouds
are gathering for another blow. And besides,
you’re soaked up to your knees. But still,
you’ve seen the rain’s work and it’s good,
and your mouth tastes of fresh sunshine.