As we stroll along the muddy puddled paths
That dissect the lush
green pasture
We are caught in a squally
august shower
And must hastily head
for cover
It was a futile
gesture as we were soaked
Within a minute of
running through wet grass
But we eventually
reached a sturdy oak
Where we waited out
the storm, until
Bright yellow beams of
light pierced the canopy
We emerged from our
cover and resumed the stroll
Everything was wet
from the rain, with
Raindrop glistening on
every leaf and bough
So we made haste along
the sun swathed paths
Safe in the knowledge that when the rain came again
They would be safely
inside looking out
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