Rain

Annie’s Rose of Sharon

Rain

I do not like the rain.

But without it

The rose of Sharon beside the porch

Would not bloom.

The yellow roses by the door

Would wither into dust

The grass in the back

Would fade from green to brown

And the family of rabbits

Would vanish—

They’d no longer be around.

No, I do not like the rain

But I suppose

I can wait inside for now

In patient expectation of the sun.

8/13/26