No drenching of the land
no drenching of the soul
just softly floating from the heavens
quenching the honored land its goal.

Feeding, along the paths and highways,
buttercups, yellow and bold;
helping to scatter shamrocks,
sure 'n 'tis more precious than gold.

Spreading over the Emerald Isle,
shimmering diamonds of eternal Spring;
a mist from heaven is how it comes
to quench your heart, body, and being.

Softly comes the rain.

 'Tho it rained some of the days we were in Ireland, the rains never lasted long - maybe 5-7 minutes -  nor were they ever heavy rains...except one day.

We had been to tour Christ Church Cathederal in the morning, then crossed the street to Jury Inn to confirm our reservation for the following weekend in Cork and Limmerick. Next was a walk to the Irish Musem of Modern Art; my grand-nephew, Noah, advised me and his sister (my grand-niece) Hannah, the distance wasn't far. I should have asked to look at the street map!

Forty-five minutes later we were just down the steep hill from the Museum when a heavy downpour came at the snap of a finger. Fortunately, the road up was heavily lined with trees and made a sheltering canopy for us; the rains stopped within ten minutes and it was another beautiful day in Ireland.                 

© Copyright Jackie (Micke) Jinks, June 2003