This word reminds me of a poem my Grandma Joye wrote. She used to read it to me, every time I was at her house and it rained. Truthfully, I didn’t mind the rain there so much. It was a great opportunity to sit on her big covered front porch in the swing. I still always sleep best when the rain sings me a lullaby.
It was so dark when I arose
I didn’t need to look to see
The Rain remains, and I suppose
Another day is lost for me.
Sometimes, to spend a day inside
Can be the greatest thing to do.
A time to think and dream or hide
From duties somewhere calling you.
As grudgingly I settle down
And try to concentrate and think
Through dreary thoughts there comes a sound
A dancing, happy, snappy “plink.”
I’ve chosen the remotest place
Where there should be no noise real soon
But tiny raindrops on the flu
Plink, plank a spanking brand new tune.
Softly, tiny gentle drops
Were brining me their melody
Delightful and refreshing plops –
In dancing, rain-time harmony.
Each one has gone to so much pain
To leave such happy note so free.
I’m heading straight out in the rain
So they can play “Plink, plank” with me
‘Til next time,