After Rain

After Rain

There is no summer heat left, in the valley,
It rolled up its long skirt to the hips, fled
Just as dark clouds appeared at the ridge.

The soil opened up, to an almost unseemly
Display, and received the rain, not as a shy
Bride, but as a lusty wench of forty-five.

Passion spent, it was a thunderous night,
The vale is at ease, moist are leaves and
In the gentle air there is a hint of a smile;