On falling rain

we are the flowers
blooming from the earth watered with the rain of tears
and the thunder of laughter, the lightning-strikes of love
adolescence's flashes fading into the after-storm of delight
young adulthood the crazy 1000 days of sun we never
quite think of as a drought, despite
every rainless storm of held-back tears, promising ourselves
that this time we won't cry, and laughter's thunder the shield
that holds us back from watering the sky.
Then comes maturity and the rains fall again; we admit
crying's not a sham or shame but a sign we're singing still.
The toys we set aside, we now hold up with joy
let the rain fall, for it makes us strong and helps us
bloom a second time, and every day after, as we fill our roots
with laughter, tears and love; the storms of youth that never
rained we now see built our souls, but the rain's what keeps us
strong.

In the charging storm, let it rain, let it thunder; bring on
the lightning. Because without the snows there are no
flowers.