rivulets dance in that crystal light
of moon or fluorine casting patterns from above,
and one who sits under that golden hue might
be thinking of work, and trouble and love
shimmering, shimmering, once waves become cloud,
once cloud becomes rain on the slanted glass,
in summer warm air hangs a blanket and sound
of singing crickets, and of fate come to pass
winter sends shiver and freezes the ground,
where once were crickets tilt clear drops of dew
upon the grass, weighting, its thoughts to confound
like late nights in bed, considering memories new
a hunter chases through the savannah a deer,
a sailor swaying on open water stares at the stars,
a sultan lounges by the beach, his servants stood near,
a soldier sweats on his shaking rifle, the accursed of Mars
they all know rain, in summer or winter, it forever remains an entrancing
facet of nature, beyond our control; but woe be to any that could disrupt our dancing!