Rain and Storms

When that I was and a little tiny boy, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain; A foolish thing was but a toy, For the rain it raineth every day. 40

Today is the first of August. It is hot, steamy and wet. It is raining. I am tempted to write a poem. But I remember what it said on one rejection slip: After a heavy rainfall, poems titled “Rain” pour in from across the nation.

In the Spring, I have counted 136 different kinds of weather inside of 24 hours.