Rain finds hidden flowers,
coaxes them gently to rise
in pale green
and glorious color.
It taps on the parched lips of the land
and slips into the thirsty earth,
soaking through the dry ground.
It chatters into rivers, streams,
swelling the coursing creek
and dripping out a sweet melody.
Rain settles on an upturned face,
trickling into an open mouth
with a fresh springy taste,
no trace of salt.
It tastes better than seawater
Even the acid kind.