Raindrops fall and make a living form
The sheets that fall are a single swarm
Begins in mystery, only the weatherman knows
Where the clouds come from with their wet woes
Perhaps they are children from the womb of the sea
Or blue skies that turned dark by always turning to lee
They wander the sea, sometimes turn to land
Lonely lives of cyclical death and demand
Yet, the always try to do what is right
Feed and nourish and cool the blight
Sometimes though, cloud attracts cloud
And makes a great storm that thunders loud
They band together in their discontent
And aim to punish the land from which they were sent
They do not know that it is our secret delight
To have a break from eternal daylight
As the drops march in waves to their death
They wash away the dirt, give soil breath.