I would see to it that my vision comes true. One that promises the cooling of the air, And wipe the slate clean of solar flare- adieu. Here comes- amass of clouds flock overhead, With ever increasing suspense- so seldom do I wish it false.
Set eyes to imaginable heights and witness: The heavens rip open with downpour, As the gods themself dangle lips from sky; In attempt to cast down the much desired tempest.
May we receive enough breeze and rain To quench our succelent cravings- until summer bid we farewell.