Cloudless May morning—
 
we mark the last days of spring,
 
longing for some rain.

 

 
 
 

On his homeward way
 
an old man trudges slowly,
 
weighed down by spring rain.

 

 
 
 

After last night’s rain
 
I rescue several earthworms
 
from the concrete walk.

 
 
 

Winter evening rain—
 
a blackbird keeps on flying,
 
bent on getting home.

 
 
 

With no umbrella,
 
a father and daughter walk
 
in the freezing rain.

 
 
 

On the old stone bridge
 
one man waits for another
 
in the pouring rain.

 
 
 

Every blade of grass
 
lifts up an alleluia
 
to the winter rain.

 
 
 

Unfurled umbrella—
 
I go to post a letter
 
in the winter rain.

 
 
 

Left out in the field,
 
the scarecrow’s felt hat gets soaked
 
by winter’s first rain.

 
 
 

Winter evening rain—
 
to hear the pitter-patter,
 
I turn off the news.