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.