What does one get Waiting, arms stretched wide For raindrops The clouds are not in the sky The clouds aren't there at all. The arms remain, the palms hope. What is hope, then Is it any different From creating clouds? More rain. But Never did rain harm Rain just knew one thing It had to fall, so It fell, knowing not whom upon Or where, road or marshland Wanted or unwanted It fell, not knowing what it did It knocked on doors, formed tributaries On window panes Extinguished thirst, inspired poetry Destroyed oil lamps, facilitated growth And then It submitted itself with old friends Puddle of joy and mirth With an open invitation To feet and boats.