How Beautiful is the Rain

Woke up today to the sound of the rain beating down on the air conditioner.  And what a magnificent sound it was!...like music to my ears.   The temperature has dropped to the upper 70's, and it is such a welcome relief from all the dreadful heat we have been enduring...an ever so slight reprieve from this sultry summer weather.  Pulled the covers back up over my head and went back to bed.  I needed a day off, and this is the perfect day for it.

On another note, everything does happen for a reason so staying home was something that was meant to be.  Remember back a few weeks ago when I asked about spells to protect hubby from the witch at work that wanted his job?  It turns out that we were already too late.  The boss had already made up his mind, and was only waiting for hubby to go on vacation to instill her in hubby's place.  And that is what hubby found when he went to work today.  He had no job.  What a mean way to do it. The boss's excuse was hubby wasn't doing his job properly, but by the fact that they scheduled training for hubby to learn a new computer program for the intakes or that they always called hubby in to sit in on interviews when hiring new people, shows that they respected his opinion...and you don't give someone a promotion if they aren't doing their job. 


They did tell him to apply for unemployment, and they will not give him a problem which shows that they know they did him wrong.  Most places will fight you tooth and nail if you did, as they say,  a poor job. I'm glad that I wasn't at work when I got the call because I fell apart when I heard the news.   I just have wonder when life is going to stop throwing me these curve balls.  (((Sigh)))  Retirement just seems so far away.

How beautiful is the rain!
After the dust and heat,
In the broad and fiery street,
In the narrow lane,
How beautiful is the rain!

How it clatters along the roofs,
Like the tramp of hoofs
How it gushes and struggles out
From the throat of the overflowing spout!

Across the window-pane
It pours and pours;
And swift and wide,
With a muddy tide,
Like a river down the gutter roars
The rain, the welcome rain!

The sick man from his chamber looks
At the twisted brooks;
He can feel the cool
Breath of each little pool;
His fevered brain
Grows calm again,
And he breathes a blessing on the rain.

From the neighboring school
Come the boys,
With more than their wonted noise
And commotion;
And down the wet streets
Sail their mimic fleets,
Till the treacherous pool
Ingulfs them in its whirling
And turbulent ocean.

In the country, on every side,
Where far and wide,
Like a leopard's tawny and spotted hide,
Stretches the plain,
To the dry grass and the drier grain
How welcome is the rain!

In the furrowed land
The toilsome and patient oxen stand;
Lifting the yoke encumbered head,
With their dilated nostrils spread,
They silently inhale
The clover-scented gale,
And the vapors that arise
From the well-watered and smoking soil.
For this rest in the furrow after toil
Their large and lustrous eyes
Seem to thank the Lord,
More than man's spoken word.

Near at hand,
From under the sheltering trees,
The farmer sees
His pastures, and his fields of grain,
As they bend their tops
To the numberless beating drops
Of the incessant rain.
He counts it as no sin
That he sees therein
Only his own thrift and gain.

These, and far more than these,
The Poet sees!
He can behold
Aquarius old
Walking the fenceless fields of air;
And from each ample fold
Of the clouds about him rolled
Scattering everywhere
The showery rain,
As the farmer scatters his grain.

He can behold
Things manifold
That have not yet been wholly told,--
Have not been wholly sung nor said.
For his thought, that never stops,
Follows the water-drops
Down to the graves of the dead,
Down through chasms and gulfs profound,
To the dreary fountain-head
Of lakes and rivers under ground;
And sees them, when the rain is done,
On the bridge of colors seven
Climbing up once more to heaven,
Opposite the setting sun.

Thus the Seer,
With vision clear,
Sees forms appear and disappear,
In the perpetual round of strange,
Mysterious change
From birth to death, from death to birth,
From earth to heaven, from heaven to earth;
Till glimpses more sublime
Of things, unseen before,
Unto his wondering eyes reveal
The Universe, as an immeasurable wheel
Turning forevermore
In the rapid and rushing river of Time.

--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow--