Sunny days where the still rain falls,
trickling into the tricked morning glories that have open arms up to precipitance we call precipitation.
And it falls, falls.
Condensed cloudbursts hailing a fine rain drizzle,
happenstance slobber from the sun to exposed petals frothing in perfection.
Close up real soon, the sanguine seal obstructed.
Auspicious benevolence barred and blocked by the clenching confine of a clammy clog.
The morning glory folds and the sun skips away,
but the pretty petals felt the rain, absorbing the drink for a farther day.