Dance your dance of hope and joy.
I think the rainmakers are dancing too.
Refreshing raindrops drip and dance
on the crown of my happy head, zigzag
while sandwiched between the contours
of my eyes, ears, nose, mouth and neck,
all the way down to the sole of my feet.
Dance your dance of hope and joy.
I think the rainmakers are dancing too.
I feel the honest hug and housework
of the rain in the depths of my soul
and my heart. Times like this make me
rise and respect the rapid rays and renewals
that vegetation displays after a downpour.
Dance your dance of hope and joy.
I think the rainmakers are dancing too.
Drip on the windowpanes, on tree tops,
ooze down into streams, dams and tributaries,
into gardens and orchids, into debris and dirt,
into our debts, mishaps and mistakes and wash
them away. Enliven our states and stratospheres.
Dance your dance of hope and joy.
I think the rainmakers are dancing too.
Dance down galls, valleys, peaks, hilltops and anthills
and heal them. Dribble into roots, rivers, reservoirs,
fields, fun and the future. Remain speaking fluently
the language of life, fertility, continuity and sanguinity.
