The rain falls on the green meadows
and black-and-white cattle.
The rain makes the landscape look
like a picture in a newspaper
You drive past it
Put the heating on to clear the windscreen
Rain doesn’t taste of anything special.
But rain becomes more green grass
more cattle, more milk, more butter, more cheese.
Everything depends on rain. Houses, people,
human happiness and fertility.
Everything derives from these uncharming drops.
You come to terms with them.
You drive through them. Suddenly
full of understanding.
To stand at the window
on a Sunday evening
and the coffee’s been drunk
and it gets darker
and at last it’s started to rain
and the trees have come out
and the strawberries are in flower
and suddenly you recall
what it’s like to walk in the rain
on a spring evening
and get wet together
and not yet have anywhere to go