The drops come in spurts
Leaving their golden dew
On each elongated tip
No bees to violate
The tiger lilies this morning
Not even the distant
Rumble of thunder
That had brought this storm
The lightning that had
Ripped open the sky
Gone to a more gentle touch
As each drop gently kisses
And cools these sharp lips
Making the erect pistil shudder
Rain that flows clean
From the tip of each petal
To moisten the rich brown
Soil at their feet,
The flock of them,
Shifting slowly to the impact
In a ritual I know
Must end with the rain,
Each waiting for that moment
When the sun tears
Through the veil of clouds
And exposes them again.
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