Unbrollied

The pleasure
Of hot
Weather.
Knowing not
Whether
The rain will come.

A cloud burst.
Relieves a thirst.
The rain does run.
But the pleasure
Of hot, wet weather
Soon is done.

And the wise,
Gazing into a stranger’s eyes,
Know that ’tis folly
To forget a brolly.

Yet, they still thirst
For the cloud to burst.
And the pleasure
Of hot wet weather
On unbrollied skin.
So take the rain in.

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