Rain in the Hills by William Haskell Simpson

Rain in the Hills
by William Haskell Simpson

Were I the rain
Coming over the hills—

I should be glad
That my cool fingers could ease the little fevers of dusty
     water-holes,
And caress curled leaves of the cottonwoods.

The herd,
Pawing, bellowing, would let me quiet them,
Standing in fresh pools by dusty water-holes–

If I were the rain
Coming over the hills.

PHOTO: Thunderstorm in the hills near Santa Fe, New Mexico. Photo by Raychel Sanner on Unsplash

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