Raining Gold.

The sky is overcast,

With the grey shadows of the winter,

Blessing the land,

With the gift of life,

Flowing with liquid,

Rich, clean, clear and blue.

The rain passes with a thunder

And a roar,

Quaking the land,

And shaking little tails

Poking out from small, unseen,

Little hideaways

Leaving behind its darkness,

Sheltering the land.

The heavy liquid,

Flattens the land,

Mowing it down,

As it rests,

And bathes,

In the storm of the day.

Then it sparkles,

Little twinkling shines of light,

Blink, left and right,

Waking,

Brightening,

Sparkling

As the evening sun sets.

Its light pours over the storm,

Like and overflow of genius,

Tucked under fear.

It explodes,

In the evening,

Across the clearing sky,

Raining gold,

Painting the land,

No—bathing it,

In yellow, dying it,

This shade of tomorrow.

What is this feeling?

Of utter bliss?

Of amazement?

Of a yellow coloured world?

What is it that I’m seeing?

The sky is raining gold

Life, sunshine and hope.

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