There is an atmosphere of jubilation
	- like the moisture, it's in the gracious air.
As greens below peer in tense anticipation,
	and into skies heavy-laden stare.
For it is rainfall dear they seek in desperation
	to lighten the burden which dry soils bear.
And so the sky sheds a tear and, in elation,
	it is received by grateful growths down there.

The first sweet caress
	upon desiccated growths and the dry brown earth
brings a joy they cannot express,
	and casts upon them all a spell of blissful mirth
as it saves them from their water-stress
	and from a certain fate of dearth.
And with life the blues that follow bless,
	and to a flush of lush green growths give birth.

Delicious drops from out the sky to fall
	- taking shelter from the storm.
Sailing swiftly to the growths that call,
	they are greeted with a welcome warm
by those below reaching up in anticipation tall
	to meet the friendly swarm :
guests to the greens that host a ball,
	and, dancing in delight, invite the blues to alter form.

Greens and blues that push and shove
	to find a mate that won't decline,
as reservoirs that hang above
	and the patient growths below combine.
And, like yin and yang in love,
	they spiral, touch, and intertwine.
As close as peace and the dove
	related in a union divine.

Sad though are those sweltering days
	when they must part company.
The sun shines bright and moisture strays
	- by vicious rays wrenched free.
Sent once more on their separate ways,
	yet together they'd prefer to be.
But bound by fate to endure a separation phase
	according to their cyclic destiny.

Once more a day shall come when no longer can the sky
	the dry earth's pleas ignore,
and shall finally succumb and to the thirsty life reply
	with a long-awaited thunderous roar :
the opening of the vaults of storm-clouds passing by,
	letting heavenly gifts of plenty pour.
And so, the pining halts and Relief lets out a sigh,
	as they return - those blues the greens adore.