When I was young, I wished for summer rains,
a respite from still air and steamy heat.
I stared at far off skies for ragged chains
of swollen angry clouds, a welcome fleet.

If I glimpsed sight of any sky dark gray,
or felt a dampness touch dry skin left bare,
I'd say, "Those rains should come quite soon today
for there's a hint of moisture in the air."

When showers came they danced along the shore
like ballerinas high upon their toes
while out beyond the reef where breakers soar
and bellow soon transparent curtains rose.

Like youth's quick song most summer rains are brief,
providing short-lived comfort, small relief.