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The rain falls relentlessly.
The rain has no say in its falling,
and it has no feelings -
it is people who give it emotions.
It is said to be black rain,
or muddy, moist or mouldy;
it can be the pattering of prosperity,
of growth, renewal and plenty.
It can be the dark cloak of despair
making invisible cruel deeds, clouding violence;
it can pelt onto dry dust and on the heads
of joyful sun-dried folk who wait
ten months for the start of the Wet.
It makes:
the farmer joyful or jaded,
the gardener thankful
the washerwoman angry
the wedding party anxious
the teacher confined and
the garden party rush for cover.
On the Beach, the dark nuclear rain
was the symbol of Death.
No, the rain has no feelings,
It falls on emotions already in place.
©fmc Frances Coll 15-11-07
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