I hear you pattering, plinking,
Trickling in rivulets down rock walls
Soaking the lush explosion of green,
Running down from volcanic hillsides, feeding the sea
Feeding the gardens, the trees,
Cooling the sticky, sweltering air,
A pleasant chill on bare skin as I gaze into the clouds from whence you came,

Source of all that grows around me
Mahalo, gentle rain