Morning dew is evidence of sweet release upon vestal valleys and rolling hills of Mother Earth.
Passion spent now heat must vent, vapor rise and evaporate with tent while emotion bent, the off-shore fog rolls in.
Fresh spring flowers to while-away the hours, while coaxing green and budding things to cover Earth Mother anew.
Drizzle maybe happy tears if most the day still shines; but when the day stays dull and gray, and blustery defines it well, listen for the bells that tell the heartfelt pain of loss when nature-born is spirit-bound, and bids this world adieu.
Hurricanes and himmicanes bring spousal trouble to bear when Nature’s give-and-take has forgotten how to share; and nothing gets said easily, every word is an accusation till it peters out with sad frustration leaving a tail in its wake of mass destruction.
Steady rain is a time to dance, Sky Father is playful and giving; his candle is lightning, his music is thunder, his flowers the scent of the living… as he bathes his true love with sacred tears.
If you find your path is flooded with a deluge pouring down, you know mankind once more has fallen and the Creator’s wrath abounds; so don’t open your umbrella, stay behind closed doors, and wait for signs of joy before you venture forth, for many who tempt the waters wind-up drowning in their fears.
[Another contribution from JW.]